


small bump

by atlas_oulast



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, It’s My Party I’ll Ship What I Want To, Miscarriage, Non-Canon Relationship, Pregnancy, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic, i mean technically??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_oulast/pseuds/atlas_oulast
Summary: Zoey felt like she was on the moon, and she swore up and down she felt a small flutter in her stomach as she strolled to work, rather than taking the train, because it was too nice outside not to.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke & Maggie Clarke, Zoey Clarke & Max Richman, Zoey Clarke & Simon Haynes, Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly
Comments: 36
Kudos: 17





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah that’s right im gonna singlehandedly start two loey fics within a few days of each other, and completely neglect my other fic don’t judge me you fuckers
> 
> ive been screaming abt this au to zoe for three days now and we stayed up to 3am twice in a row talking about it so today (well, yesterday, but it’s 12:49 am so) i did a 10k day and pumped out three and a half chapters and if i had restraint id wait till i had more but HAHAHA. have loey angst because that’s what i crave.
> 
> as for the basics of this au: episode 8 maybe happened but maybe didn’t but the stuff with mitch’s medication not working anymore definitely didn’t, and then it thoroughly diverges after episode 11. episode 12 doesn’t happen, zoey decides to just be friends with simon & max, and then she hooks up with leif and they become boyfriend girlfriend. make sense? if it doesn’t it’s now 12:56 so.
> 
> mind the tags mind the tags MIND THE TAGS and mind the gap

It had been a beautiful day out.

The sun was shining, there were only a couple idyllic clouds dotting the sky, and it was surprisingly warm outside for the time of year.

Zoey had woken up on the right side of bed, well rested, happy, even if she’d thrown up a bit this morning. She was spotting a little bit, but her doctor told her that that was perfectly normal.

She put on yellow floral dress, little white daisies and little daffodils sprinkled all over the garment. The sleeves were like that of a tank top, but with a sweetheart neckline. A shiny yellow ribbon was a high waistband just below her chest, and the rest of the dress flared out slightly until it ended at her knees. It even had pockets!

She considered putting on a liner, but decided against it, because the little bit of spotting she had that morning was just pink, and it was a few tiny drops. That was it, so she just put on black shorts under her dress. Spotting was normal, she was told.

Because Zoey was pregnant. 

In two days, she’d be sixteen weeks pregnant, and she’d get to go get another ultrasound, she’d get to find out the sex of the baby.

And to add in a few more good vibes, the CHIRP had started beta testing, and so far, everything was going great, with minor little bugs getting discovered by the beta testers and fixed by her team, her team that was working absolutely spectacularly, like a well oiled machine, but with humans. 

Zoey had given up caffeine, opting instead to try a caffeine free tea on her usual coffee stop, The Golden Gate Grind, which had turned out to actually be really good. She had been in such a good mood, she’d even gotten coffee for her coding team, Joan, and Simon. 

Zoey felt like she was on the moon, and she swore up and down she felt a small flutter in her stomach as she strolled to work, rather than taking the train, because it was too nice outside not to.

Zoey came into work with a pep in her step, even with the immense amount of cardboard coffee cup holders she was carrying.

She handed coffee off first to Joan, greeting her with a probably almost too peppy “Good morning!”

“Are you high?” Joan asked, not missing a beat. 

“Just happy,” Zoey said, finding her cup in the sea of holders. “They spelled your name J-O-W-N, but- black coffee with two shots of espresso and a mountain of whipped cream.”

“Hail Mary,” Joan said, popping a metal straw from her desk drawer into the cup. “That’s actually delicious for your hippie coffee, my compliments to the chef. Here- how much do I owe you?”

“My treat. Trust me, I’m still paying you back for the times we’ve gone out- even if you say that that’s on you, might as well throw in a coffee on my end. Also, I’m in a really, really good mood.”

“Is buying coffee for everyone in the office a usual symptom of your good moods?”

“No... I just feel really good today,” Zoey said, beaming a little bit. 

Joan shielded her eyes jokingly. “That’s too much sunlight, I’m not awake enough for that yet!” 

Zoey laughed. “You’ll manage.”

“As long as this sunshine-y attitude helps your team work better and faster,” Joan said, taking another sip of her coffee. 

“That’ll probably be the free coffee,” Zoey said. “Mind if I leave it here for a sec while I run one to Simon?”

“From marketing? I guess? Did you get coffee for all of marketing?”

“Just for Simon. He’s my friend.”

“If you say so,” Joan said. “I’ll guard the coffees... maybe I’ll even sample around.”

“Cool,” Zoey said, picking up Simon’s coffee. He had gotten a peppermint mocha Frappuccino, no whipped cream, iced. She walked with a pep in her step to Simon’s office.

Her prospects of having romantic relationships with either Simon or Max were long gone, and she’d started dating someone a year ago, and she might be poly, but she wasn’t looking for anyone new. But being best friends with Simon and Max- that was actually really, really nice.

Simon pretended to clutch his pearls when he saw Zoey come in, peppy and also holding a coffee with the name Simone on it. 

“You’re happy today,” Simon marveled.

“Feeling good today, myself. You?” Zoey asked, handing him the coffee.

“Well, I was already doing fine, but even better, now that you’ve given me this coffee- which you might’ve stolen from a certain Simone, whomever she may be.”

“Pretty sure that that’s a Simon Haynes iced peppermint mocha Frappuccino, no whip,” Zoey said, handing him a straw.

“Well, thank you very much, Zoey. How’d they spell your name?”

“Z-O-E, but with the two dot accent mark over the E, so Zoë. Which, I mean... at least you pronounce it the same? I have one for a Siobhan, and I know it’s for Sam, I just don’t know how we ended up with Siobhan.”

“Barista magic,” Simon said.

“Barista magic! Sorry for rushing out on you, but I left the other fifteen coffees with Joan, and I’m afraid she’s gonna drink it all.”

“You should be afraid, can you imagine what Joan on that much coffee would do?”

“Kill us all?”

“Kill us all,” Simon agreed. “Now, hurry! Don’t let her get it! Freaking run, Zoey,” he said, much louder and faster.

“I’m gonna speed walk!” Zoey said, just as loud and fast as him, as she took off speed walking back to Joan’s office. 

She handed out the coffees to their recipients, the last coffee going to Leif.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You are looking absolutely radiant today.”

“You’re just happy about the coffee,” Zoey joked. 

Leif laughed. “In all seriousness... you look like you’re in a super super good mood, and I really like that on you.”

“Thanks! It has pockets,” Zoey said, showing off the pockets on her dress.

“It’s very twirly,” Leif said. “It’s a very good dress to represent your mood on this lovely morning.”

“And tonight... if you’re not doing anything, I think we should go for a walk on a pier. Just for fun.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leif said. 

Zoey would love to talk to her boyfriend even more, but duty called, and she couldn’t spend the entire day just talking to him. At least, not today, so she turned around to her team.

She clapped loudly to get their attention. “Alright! We got in about ten bugs overnight, let’s fix them up and do it right. Leif, Tobin, Sam, you each take care of one of the ones with the facial recognition interface, Greg and Tulsi, you two work on the one with the voice sounding all garbled and weird, and everyone else on the bugs with the database, I’ll fix the two on response time.”

She sat down, pulled up her various computers and her work tablet, and got to work.

Fixing the response time bugs was decently time consuming, and she had just finished with the first one when she’d finished her tea and needed to go pee, so she stood and went to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, she discovered that the bleeding hadn’t stopped- and, in fact, there was now a bloody spot on her underwear the size of a flattened blueberry. But that was the amount she’d had when she’d called the doctor a week ago, and he’d said that it was perfectly normal, so she didn’t think much of it. And the light lower back pain she was having was normal just to Zoey, she needed a pillow for her lower back for her chair but she had continued to procrastinate on getting it.

She returned to her desk, working on the second bug until lunchtime rolled around. Leif decided to bring her lunch from today’s bread bar, an everything bagel with a healthy slaughtering of cream cheese. This was as far as they went with PDA, at least at work (besides occasionally buttering the biscuit in the ladies room and one time on her desk) they occasionally got each other lunch and gave each other loving smiles, but Leif had ramped it up to an almost daily thing now that she was pregnant.

“I’m still only five minutes along,” Zoey joked as he handed her the bagel.

“I don’t care, I’m intent on making sure that chivalry doesn’t die,” Leif said.

“Oh, no, I’m pretty sure you were making sure of that long before we started dating.”

Leif smiled. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Actually, do you have an ibuprofen? My back kinda hurts,” Zoey said. The back pain had gotten worse since she’d gone to the bathroom, but it wasn’t all that bad. Just annoying.

“I think so, you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just spotting a bit again, and my back kinda hurts. I really do need one of those little pillows.”

“So you keep saying,” Leif teased, going over to his desk and producing a bottle of acetaminophen. He sprinkled two tablets into Zoey’s hand, and she swallowed them dry.

“Thanks, Leif,” she said.

“Anytime.”

If you’d told Zoey a year and a half ago that she would end up dating Leif, she would’ve laughed in your face. The thought was preposterous to her even a couple days before they’d had their first kiss, but then before she knew it, they were dating, and she was having the time of her life. Leif was a master at both the upright tango and the horizontal tango, as well as generally being sweet and kind and caring and just... a really really sweet boyfriend? She wouldn’t give him up for the world now, he was amazing.

 _”Do we have to get married now that you’re pregnant?”_ Leif had asked, three days after the test had come back positive, and three days after Zoey had been convinced by Leif that having a kid was a good idea. She had only just gotten on board with it- but even three days in, she was pretty much full ham.

 _”Do we need to? Like, I love you very much, but we don’t_ need _to,”_ Zoey had replied. _“We can raise a kid just fine as an unmarried couple, I don’t really believe in getting married because now there’s a kid. Not that I don’t love you very much... just, getting married seems like an even bigger commitment than having a kid together is- which I know is incorrect, but..”_

_“No, I get it. But we should probably move in together?”_

_“We can do that. Not right now, of course, but probably when I’m farther along. I swear to god, if I went into labor in my apartment...”_

_“Mo would help you, I’m sure, if I wasn’t there.”_

_“Yeah, but Mo would be more freaked out than I would be. Or dropping all sorts of innuendos. I would much rather see Mo after I have the kid, not have him take me to the hospital.”_

_“Point taken.”_

_“But yeah, I dunno... getting married seems like a lot to me right now. If we get married, I want it to be planned a year or two in advance, and if we were getting married just because I was pregnant, that would mean getting married before I start showing, which... no. Plus, I don’t want to be Zoey Donnelly.”_

_“Maybe I should take your last name if we ever get married... Leif Clarke sounds pretty hot. But yeah, I agree, let’s not.”_

When Zoey got up to go to the bathroom again, at two in the afternoon, she began to get alarmed.

The bleeding hadn’t stopped- actually, it’d gotten worse. A lot worse. The crotch of her underwear was almost completely soaked, which was, uh... not good. That wasn’t light spotting. This was like a heavy flow day.

But she decided against calling the doctor. She’d just called a few days ago about spotting, which had been a lot lighter than this, but she didn’t want to be an annoying patient.

But why did it feel like just delaying the inevitable (whatever the inevitable was), and why did she feel sick to her stomach? 

Her legs felt weak, and she went back to her desk, only for curiosity and fear to get the better of her a mere ten minutes later, and she went back to the bathroom, this time a little bit quicker paced. She took her purse with her because there were liners in there if she needed them, and she dropped her phone in her pocket, just to have it with her. When your dad was slowly dying of a degenerative disease, you didn’t really leave your phone unattended very much.

There was _so_ much more blood than there had been a mere ten minutes ago... ten minutes ago just the crotch had been soaked. Now it had leaked, and it was all over her inner thighs.

And she couldn’t move.

The weight of the situation crashed down like her like an anvil falling from the sky, and her blood running cold had frozen her limbs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak-

This wasn’t spotting... and she’d ignored it all day up to this point... and now it was so bad, what if she-

Zoey banished the thought from her mind... but still, she couldn’t move. She had her (now somewhat bloody) shorts rolled down to her ankles with her (extremely bloody) underwear with it, and she just now realized that she was shaking, that she was staring at her soaked underwear and shaking and kinda sorta hyperventilating.

After what felt like eternity, Zoey mustered up enough feeling in her numb limbs to reach into one of her dress pockets, and slowly, fingers shaking so badly she could barely use them, unlocked her phone and immediately called Leif.

Zoey couldn’t muster up anything in her body to form words, much less cohesive ones, for a good while.

Leif had answered the phone, sounding at least mildly concerned with his “Zoey?” Likely, he’d seen her go to the bathroom twice in a row in the past ten minutes, and also it wasn’t like they usually called each other in the middle of work from the bathroom.

Zoey’s breathing was a little bit too fast, a little bit too sharp, and that was probably what kept Leif on the line, rather than hang up, assuming it was a butt dial, when Zoey didn’t say a damn thing.

Finally, she took a shallow, shaky breath, and spoke.

“Leif,” she said, in a tiny, almost child-like voice.

“Are you okay?” Leif asked, concern growing in his voice. 

“There’s... there’s blood.... lots. And I’m in the bathroom and I’m scared to move-“

“Okay, okay. I’m coming, okay?”

Zoey felt a tear or two sneak out and slide down her cheek forlornly. “Leif,” she pleaded.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Leif said, and Zoey heard movement from the other end of the line.

She heard the bathroom door open, and she hung up, knowing it was Leif.

“Can you open the stall, Zoey? Or no?” Leif asked from the other side of the shiny silver stall door.

Zoey reached out, hands shaking so badly that she struggled to undo the simple sliding lock, but eventually, she pried it open.

Leif stepped inside, closing the door behind him, making the stall claustrophobic and cramped. Not that Zoey cared.

Leif took one look at the blood, and his face turned pale, a feat, given that he was already whiter than flour. 

“We’re going to the hospital,” he decided, voice shaking.

Zoey nodded, and barely managed to pull up her pants, her whole body was shaking so hard. Which brought into question whether she could walk.

Leif opened up the stall door and tried to lead her out, but her knees were weak and shaking and she didn’t make it very far.

He didn’t miss a beat, simply picking Zoey up and carrying her. She was small and relatively light, but he was tall and skinny and also relatively light, but Zoey could barely even form a cohesive thought at this point, wrapping her arms around Leif to hold on as he carried her, upright, like a toddler. 

Luckily, the elevator was far enough from the bullpen that nobody seemed to stare at them besides the receptionist, and Joan wasn’t in her office. Zoey wasn’t sure she would be able to handle questioning.

She buried her face in Leif’s shirt as she heard high heels approaching. She didn’t know who it was, but Zoey didn’t care, she didn’t want to look at anyone.

Maybe if she hadn’t ignored it ten minutes ago, she wouldn’t have to be carried right now. It was embarrassing and stupid, but there was no way she could make her limbs actually work, not right now.

Zoey heard the elevator doors open, felt Leif press a button and walk in, and felt the elevator descend.

“Oh, fuck... we have to take the train, Zoey,” Leif realized at loud.

Zoey felt her heart drop into her stomach, and she pressed her head further into Leif’s light blue V-neck sweater.

“It’s gonna be okay... we’ll get there,” Leif said softly, stroking her hair gently. 

Zoey didn’t take her head out of Leif’s chest until he asked her if she had her pass with her. She was very thankful she’d grabbed her purse, otherwise she would have left her phone and pass at work, and that was not really an option, if she wanted to get to the hospital anytime today.

She shakily produced her pass from her bag, and Leif scanned them both in. Luck was on their side in one small way, because the train had just pulled into the station when they stepped onto the platform.

They got on the train, and after another peek from Zoey, she was that there was a free seat, that Leif sat down on.

Zoey curled up a little bit, now on his lap, and Leif held her, tight and protective against her small, shaking form, like a scared animal.

Internally, Zoey was completely numb, barely even thinking anymore, nor really processing any information, for that matter. Her blood was cold, and it had numbed her all over, like she’d been stuck in a freezer. She was frozen, not even sure how she was still breathing and semi-functioning.

Zoey managed to muster up one singles thought, one single question.

_Was the baby alive?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> validate me with comments and ill validate your loey fics with screeching (or not if you don’t have loey fics.... u heathen :p)
> 
> im gonna shove my tumblr down ur throat just like all my other fics, it’s @team-zoey-has-two-hands


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey and Leif wait at the hospital for news they already know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZOË DID HER HOMEWORK SO HERE WE GOOOOOO 
> 
> jdjdhjd mind the tags it’s heavy this chapter

Zoey remembered her first ultrasound. 

She was ten weeks along, and she’d gone to the gynecologist for the first time, accompanied by Leif for protection. She had hated how people had looked at her, the prying gaze of the receptionist, and then the cold tools attached to the examining table when she’d been called back.

The nurse had weighed her, asked some basic questions, and then the doctor had come in, and slathered this cold, horrible goo on her stomach and then slapping a weird round wand onto Zoey’s stomach and moving it around.

But then she’d gotten to (sort of) see the baby, the doctor pointed out where the fetus was, otherwise she’d never have been able to tell. Leif had held her hand, and then he’d put a stethoscope on her stomach and handed her the earpieces.

And there had been a heartbeat.

The fuzzy picture on the monitor was one thing, and Zoey trusted that the doctor was telling the truth when he said that the thing in there was a ten week old fetus, but when she’d heard the heartbeat- that had sent a pang to her own heart.

She had fallen in love, right then and there.

Because there was a _heartbeat_ , there was a living being inside of her, _alive_. She was going to have a little baby, in thirty weeks she was going to hold them.

She’d felt gutted, listening to the heartbeat and letting the realizations wash over her, but gutted in a good way- gutted like she’d realized she had a crush on someone. 

Except that this wasn’t a crush.

This was her _child_ , in her stomach.

Now, as she clung to Leif as she felt the train slow to a stop at a station, the one question she was able to form was whether that child was still alive.

She regretted every second of the day. Her bubbly, peppy attitude in the morning? Embarrassing, stupid. 

Her shrugging off of the bleeding until it was too late? How could she have been expected to raise a child if she ignored this obvious, neon sign right up in her face screaming that something was terribly, terribly wrong. She didn’t realize something was wrong until it was metaphorically slapping her in the face.

Zoey clung impossibly tighter to Leif and closed her eyes as the train started up again, dashing for the next station. It didn’t feel fast enough, she almost felt like screaming to _go faster, hurry up_ , they were loosing so much _time._

Maybe if she’d gone to the hospital sooner she wouldn’t feel like the train was going so, so slow. 

Leif murmured things to her about how she was going to be okay, and Zoey realized distantly that she had begun to cry. In public, on a fucking train! Because she just had to add to the pile of embarrassment. 

What if there was blood soaking through her dress? She felt exposed, felt all eyes upon her even if none of them were, even if she wasn’t even looking. 

Finally, the train slowed to a stop again, and Leif got up, still carrying her. Zoey knew that she should probably walk on her own, but she was still shaking horribly, so much that she was beginning to get nauseous from it. That, and moving, but not looking at anything, not knowing where she was going.

Zoey turned her head so that she was resting her cheek against Leif’s chest, not her entire face. She realized that there was a faint wet spot on Leif’s sweater now thanks to _her_ , which was wonderful. Leif was moving as fast as he could while carrying her, but it still felt like a glacial pace towards the hospital.

“I think I can walk,” Zoey said softly.

“I can keep carrying you if you want, it’s not difficult,” Leif replied, not slowing down. 

“I’m already mortified... can I please try?” Zoey pleaded in a small voice.

Leif stopped, and slowly set Zoey down. Her knees wobbled, but Zoey was bound and determined to walk the rest of the way- even if they were going so much slower, what with her walking like a newborn horse. 

Leif held her hand and pulled her along some, and finally, they got into the ER.

Inside, it was utter chaos.

There was not one empty seat, every single one occupied, sick and injured people all over the room. Kids ran around unchecked, screeching. Another was kicking and screaming on the ground, a third kicking and screaming in a chair. That, plus the general sound of conversation, made for a din that rose and rose in Zoey’s ears, almost like the initial shock had been muted somewhat to let her slowly adjust to it. 

Zoey and Leif simply hightailed it for the receptionist’s desk, and Leif informed her what was going on. She looked unimpressed and bored, and gave Leif some papers to fill out, told them that they’d be waiting for an amount of time that Zoey didn’t listen to, partially because she could barely hear the lady in the first place over the din, but also because she was terrified to know how long she’d be waiting.

Leif tried to find her a chair, failed, and Zoey elected to simply sit down on the floor, against a wall. Two toddlers ran by, screeching, rubbing their grubby hands all over some waiting room toys. Leif sat down next to her and filled out the paperwork, occasionally asking her questions he didn’t already know the answer to. Other than that, she was completely silent, both not having the energy to talk and also not wanting to add to the din.

Leif got up to give the lady the paperwork, and eventually, he pounced on a seat when it emptied, and made Zoey go sit there. Zoey protested for a second, but then the next thing she knew, she had ended up in the chair, and didn’t even remember how, or care. 

People came and went, Leif eventually got to sit next to her, names were called that weren’t hers, and she felt the blood spreading, was quite certain at this point that it had seeped through to her dress. Even if no eyes were upon her, again, she felt them all laser focused right at her. Judging her. Because why hadn’t she come hours ago? Why hadn’t she realized until now?

Leif put his arm on the cheap plastic armrest, and Zoey rested her head on it, unable to bear even being upright right now. All she wanted to do was go to sleep, make it all go away, and then wake up again in the morning where it wasn’t too late.

Was she too late now?

“Sorry,” Zoey murmured, realizing that having her head on his arm probably wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, and she lifted her head back up.

“No, it’s okay, go right ahead,” Leif said. He sounded so, so worried, and it just about broke her heart.

She didn’t put her head back down.

The hours passed, and Zoey was pretty sure she dozed off at one point, and even when she woke up, it was still a million years more to wait.

“Should I call your mom?” Leif said suddenly, like he was just now having the thought occur to him.

Zoey shook her head silently.

“Are you sure? I can-“

“We didn’t even tell her that I was pregnant... what happens if I tell her that I’m... I’m...” Zoey trailed off, unable to finish the sentence with the unspoken word on her lips. “How would she feel? I can’t do that to her... and who would be with dad?”

“I’m sure she would be fine with coming here, and I’m sure she would pull whatever strings she needed to to get to you.”

“I don’t want to tell her... I don’t want to put that on her, Leif. Please.”

Leif slowly nodded. “Okay.”

And then they waited some more.

It was agonizing, watching the clock go tick tick tick, feeling how much fucking blood was pouring out of her. If she bled all over this chair, everyone would see, and they’d all know exactly what she’d done. Or they’d think she was having a heavy flow day.

Maybe she was, and she had never been pregnant in the first place.

Zoey didn’t even know what time it was by the time she was finally, finally called back, but she just stood on shaky legs, looked to see if the chair was bloody (it wasn’t, thank god) and grabbed Leif’s hand, relying somewhat on him to pull her along, otherwise, even though she was dying to get out of this chair, she was terrified of what would happen if she left it, wanted to just stick her feet in the ground and stay.

The nurse led them through a series of winding hallways, until they came upon an empty bed parked in a busy hallway, next to an elevator.

“Here’s where you are, we don’t have a room for you right now. We’ll get you back for an ultrasound in a bit,” the nurse said, looking bored. “I’ll give you a hospital gown to change into and directions to the bathroom, because we’re not leaving you in those clothes.”

That’s when the reality of the situation hit her again, and Zoey’s knees gave out.

Luckily, Leif was not a leaf, but a fucking tree, and she caught herself on him. The nurse jumped in to grab her shoulder, and she and Leif together got her into the bed.

Zoey laid down in a ball, curling into herself and tucking her head until it touched her knees.

The nurse sighed. “I’ll give your husband the gown and directions to the bathroom,” she said, and Zoey tuned her out after that.

Finally, she left, giving Leif a plastic bag, an ugly green hospital gown, and some ugly maternity underwear, and he asked Zoey what she wanted to do.

She just shook her head a bit.

“You probably shouldn’t stay in those clothes, Zoey... you’ve bled all over them.”

Zoey felt her face burn, but even that couldn’t sway her. What was the point of getting up and getting into an ugly little smock? Leif would probably have to help her into it, and she’d just bleed all over that too. 

At this point, she knew that what was happening was a forgone conclusion, but she couldn’t even bring herself to think the words, because that would be giving up.

Even if she was good with giving up on clean clothes on this hospital bed next to the elevator. Every time the elevator opened and closed, she saw them look at her, wondered if they’d kick her out or make fun of her.

“Zo... c’mon. I... I can’t leave you in the bloody clothes... please.”

“What if someone takes away the bed while we’re gone and then I have to wait in the waiting room again? I can’t wait in the room again, Leif.”

“I’ll leave a note and my bag,” Leif said. How he’d had the foresight to get his work bag when he’d come to rescue Zoey in the girl’s bathroom, Zoey didn’t even know. Or had he gone to get it? He could’ve gone and got it and played a round of table tennis while holding her and she wouldn’t be surprised that she didn’t remember.

“I’m scared, Leif,” Zoey said, voice small. Like she was a fucking child. She didn’t deserve to talk like that... it was her own fault her clothes were this bloody right now.

“I know,” Leif said, barely above a whisper. “Please let me help you get into these clean clothes, even if they’re ugly. Please.”

Zoey sighed, and let him write a note to leave on the bed, before also letting him carry her to the bathroom. She was terrified that she was going to leave a bloody spot on his clothes, and if that happened, she might as well just go ahead and die of embarrassment.

Zoey felt even more mortified as Leif helped her out of her bloody clothes in a cold stall in a smelly bathroom (she had definitely soaked through her dress with the blood, she discovered) and helped her into that stupid green hospital gown. It made her feel nauseous, the pea green color and the fact that she was in a hospital in a gown like she was sick or something.

Maybe she was sick. Leif had commented on how hot and flushed she was, and then put a hand on her forehead, and said that she was probably running a fever.

Why couldn’t she even bring herself to even care, anymore? She didn’t care that she had a fever, she didn’t care that she was uncomfortable and cold and there was dried blood on her legs and her clothes were now in a plastic baggie... but she did care just enough not to say fuck it and leave.

They returned to find that the bed and the note hadn’t moved, and Zoey elected to climb into it, lay on her side top of the cheap white sheets, and stare into space.

After a bit, Leif climbed up onto the bed with her, sitting next to her, and taking her hand in his. 

Zoey scooted closer, resting her head on his leg and feeling a stubborn tear trickle down her nose.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Leif said softly, stroking her hair gently. 

Zoey didn’t know how long it’d been when a nurse finally showed up (with a wheelchair, hallelujah) to take her for an ultrasound.

She would’ve had an ultrasound two days later, and found out the sex, if this hadn’t happened.

Maybe if she’d dealt with the blood sooner.

Zoey was wheeled into a darkened room, and she got onto the examining table without needing more help, and then they waited some more.

Fucking finally, a doctor came in, slathered the gross cold slime on her stomach, and that was when Zoey grabbed Leif’s hand and closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to see.

The doctor moved the instrument around on her stomach for what felt like years, not even speaking, and then took it off, wiped off the goo, and sent them back to their ‘room.’

For another hour or so, Zoey watched the people come and go from the elevator, watched doctors and nurses hurry around the hall, and she felt it go like a time lapse, because if she had to process it in real time she’d practically die.

And then the nurse came back.

She had a clipboard in her hands, she looked bored and like this was routine and almost below her. 

Or maybe that was just how Zoey saw her, after she read off that Zoey was no longer pregnant.

And the world kept moving around them, even though Zoey had been gutted in a whole new way.

_She held the listening pieces of the stethoscope, a little bit confused at why she’d be given it, before sticking them in her ears- and feeling instantly at a loss for words when the noise filled her ears._

_The thump, thump, thump was inside her... there was a tiny, tiny heart, probably not much bigger than her thumbnail, and it was pumping inside her._

_Her _child_ was in her belly._

_This was a heartsong all on it’s own... somewhat literally. She could hear the baby singing to her from inside, with every thump, thump, thump. There was no lyrics, but the melody was sharp and beautiful, played right on her heartstrings._

_She felt so empty, like she’d been gutted of every emotion she’d ever felt and wiped clean, and filled with so much love and hope and wonder. Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked away as fast she she could._

_Her hands were shaking by the time the nurse gently took the stethoscope out, and she realized that she was softly gaping. She closed her mouth, and the nurse asked Leif if he wanted to listen._

_He’d nodded and scooted closer, and he’d been given the stethoscope, and a look filled his face, probably just like the one she was already wearing._

_Soft, peaceful, so full of _love_ and _wonder_._

_He’d reached out for Zoey’s stomach, hesitated, and instead grabbed Zoey’s hand. Zoey smiled slowly and softly, like butter sliding over a warm pan as it melts, knowing what he was hearing._

_Eventually, he handed the stethoscope back to the nurse, who smiled and went into a different room._

_Zoey turned to Leif, and opened her mouth to say something, and then shut her mouth, because the simple look on her face would suffice. Leif, for his part, merely took his hand and cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it softly, smiling against it._

_“We’re gonna have a baby,” Leif said quietly._

_“We’re gonna have a baby,” Zoey had repeated._

Where had that heartbeat gone?

She’d nearly cried when she listened to it, so moved by the gentle noise in her ears that she’d begun shaking.

There had been a heartbeat. It had been there, it had been alive- where was it?

The nurse kept talking and talking and talking, about painkillers and support groups and this pamphlet, and all that Zoey could think to do was nod and nod and nod, because as long as she nodded, didn’t ask any questions, she would go away.

Even if she wanted to _scream_ , ‘What happened to the heartbeat?!’

But she could only scream it in her own mind.

Eventually, the nurse wrapped up her little speech by saying that they would try and get Zoey a room for the night, because not quite everything was out of her and they wanted to keep an eye on her.

Zoey turned to Leif, putting on her best pleading eyes.

She did not want to stay here. Not at all. It was so cold and clinical out here in a dirty hallway next to an elevator, what would being in an actual room be like? She didn’t want to sleep with someone next to her, on the other side of the curtains, maybe even suffering from what she was suffering from.

A broken heart.

Two broken hearts... if you counted Zoey’s.

She could confidently say that she would most definitely have a panic attack if she was forced to stay here.

Leif understood her eyes well, having studied them for hours and hours from across the room at SPRQ Point in bouts of eye sex, and he turned to the nurse. 

“Under no circumstances is she staying here.”

The nurse sighed and put the hand holding her clipboard on her hip. “Look, Mr. Clarke-“

“Donnelly, actually.” Leif was laying on the ‘be so rude that they don’t have any qualms about not making you stay’ sauce on rather thick.

“-Mr. Donnelly, not everything has been discharged yet.”

“Cool. You said that there was an option to wait and see? Let’s do that. Because Zoey has had a long day and the last thing that she wants is to stay here.”

“Why don’t we ask Mrs. Donnelly how she feels?”

Zoey burst into tears. “Please don’t make me stay here, I can’t take it... I’ll do anything,” she pleaded in that small, child-like voice.

Both the nurse and Leif stopped short.

“ _Please,_ ” Zoey repeated.

“Let me go talk to my supervisor,” the nurse finally said, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

“Why don’t I go with you?” Leif said, getting down from the bed.

The nurse sighed, but waved her hand, signaling that he could join her.

He told Zoey that he’d be back in a minute, and then she was alone with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today im shoving this fic down ur throat rather than my tumblr. just give me comments 🅱️lease


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey goes back home with Leif, and they spend their first day after the hospital together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOF this is a sad chapter. if u thot last chapter was sad... this is prolly equally sad with a slight edge. enjoy.

People swirled around her, the elevator opened and closed and conversations were had. The world kept moving... no matter how hard Zoey begged for it to stop, just for a second, just to let her _breathe_.

She curled in on herself, one hand on her stomach. It’d already become a habit, fifteen weeks along, just to check in and remind the little baby in there that she was there, and to remind herself that there was a little baby in there.

Now, the hand on her stomach met with nothing inside... except whatever... whatever was left in there. She tried not to think too hard about it, because if she did she would probably vomit. A lot.

All that she felt with the hand on her stomach was _emptiness, defeat_... and the worst cramps she’d ever had in her life.

Just to add insult to injury (or to add more injury to injury) she was cramping up horribly, horrible horrible pangs of pain in her empty belly.

Zoey, at this point, didn’t care that she’d started crying, small, pitiful little tears trickling down her nose uncomfortably.

She wanted her mom... and yet didn’t feel deserving of her mom coming. And besides... who would stay with Dad? 

Still... she wanted her mom to hug her, tell her that it was all going to be okay- not that Leif wasn’t enough, he was wonderful and she loved him- she just wanted her mom, too.

She almost picked up her phone to call her... and then she didn’t.

Eventually, Leif came back, this time with a different nurse, wheeling a wheelchair. “We’re going home, Zo,” he said quietly.

The nurse, a male nurse who was entirely too buff, helped Zoey into the wheelchair, which was good, because she was pretty sure she’d completely lost the ability to walk again, at least mentally.

He gave her something to sign, which Zoey signed robotically, not caring if she’d just signed away her freedom. Leif signed it and gathered up his and Zoey’s stuff from the bed, and then they went.

The nurse told Leif to go get the car, and Leif responded to say that they’d taken the train.

“Anyone you can call to pick you up?” The nurse asked, pushing Zoey along in the wheelchair. Zoey didn’t tune them out for the express purpose of making sure that Leif didn’t call her mom.

She didn’t _deserve_ to have her mom to come help her.

“I can take the train,” Zoey said, in an unconvincing voice, rather weak and tired.

“It’s better if you call someone,” the nurse argued.

“I can take the train,” Zoey said, a little bit sharper. She was _so_ done with nurses and hospitals and everything, she was bound and ready just to go fucking _home._

“If you say so.”

The nurse wheeled her to the door, where she tried to stand up, failed, and Leif picked her up again. Leif thanked the nurse, and then they were walking away in the cold, windy, pitch black night, lit only by the lights of the hospital and some streetlights.

“I’m _sorry,_ ” Zoey breathed, barely loud enough to be heard, what with the distant traffic, the blowing wind, and her face half smushed against his chest.

“You’re okay,” Leif whispered, even quieter than her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, chaste and silent. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Now that it was ten PM, one would think that the trains would be relatively empty, but no, there just _had_ to be a Warriors game tonight that had just finished up, so the trains were packed.

Luckily, when you’re carrying a woman in a hospital gown at ten PM, a nice older lady and her sister will give you their seats with a sympathetic smile.

Zoey slid off of Leif halfway, halfway on him and halfway in the seat. She gave the ladies a thankful half smile that was so forced it was so, so obvious, and she grabbed Leif’s hand, because boy, was this train claustrophobically crowded, even if she got a seat. The man next to her was man spreading, and all around her, there were people standing, holding onto poles, completely packed.

Somehow, they made it to the station nearest to Zoey’s apartment, and Leif carried her the rest of the way, into her building, up the stairs, and she mentally prepared for the possibility that Mo would stick his head out of his door, but luckily, even while Leif was fishing around in Zoey’s bag for her keys, he didn’t. There were some faint showtunes drifting out of his apartment, so he certainly wasn’t dead or out on the town.

Leif finally found Zoey’s keys and let them in, to Zoey’s cold, cold, dark apartment. He flicked on the lights and carried Zoey right into the bathroom.

“You’re gonna take a bath,” Leif said, setting her down on the toilet after he put down the cover. Zoey nodded, grateful that he was making decisions, so that she didn’t have to, because she wasn’t sure how much she would be able to function had she had to do this on her own.

Leif drew a warm bath for her and asked if she wanted to bathe on her own, or if she wanted help.

“If I have to do this on my own right now I don’t think I’d ever get out of here,” Zoey whispered. “I hate to make you help me but I _can’t_.”

He nodded. “I know... I know. C’mon, let’s get you out of that ugly thing.”

He helped her out of the stupid green hospital gown and the stupid hospital underwear and she managed to climb into the bathtub on her own, shaky limbs climbing into the warm water.

Zoey had been naked in front of Leif plenty of times, but now, he was literally bathing her... literally washing the dried blood of their _dead child_ off of her. It was mortifying and yet she felt like if he left her alone for one _second_ she would die.

He bathed her and gently washed her hair like she was a completely helpless child, and then he pressed on the drain and helped Zoey out, and she stood shivering as he wrapped her in a towel and rubbed her down.

She managed to put on her blue and green striped nightgown by herself, and put on underwear and the biggest pads she owned... which she knew wasn’t enough.

After that, she and Leif just stood there for a moment, not looking at each other, Leif standing facing the bathroom door and Zoey facing the opposite direction, the two of them just standing there in the cold hallway.

“What do we _do_?” Leif asked, choked. He was crying.

Zoey turned to him slowly and wiped the tears off his face, feeling obligated to do _something._ Seeing Leif cry, she felt tears well up in her own eyes, but blinked them away as best she could.

“I don’t _know_ ,” she choked out, despite how hard she was blinking back her tears, the lump in her throat was rising and horrible, she felt like she might asphyxiate from it.

He wrapped his arms slowly around her waist, and drew her close, the two of them pressing together and clinging to each other in the hall, crying together quietly in the silent, stony room.

They stood there until Zoey felt like she might collapse, and she broke the embrace and turned towards the bedroom, still holding Leif’s hand, leading him along. 

He pulled down the covers, all neatly made from a distant time long ago when she’d been _happy_ , when she’d been bubbly and practically bouncing around in the morning, making her bed, even though she never did that.

The one morning where she made her bed, she came back no longer pregnant.

Leif pulled down the covers and they climbed into the bed together. They hadn’t even bothered to turn on the light when they came in, and now, Leif wrapped his arms even tighter around Zoey after they pulled the blankets up over them, feeling like he was almost crushing her. She felt like a toothpick, like he could break her in half at any point, not that his embrace was actually particularly uncomfortable. 

She heard him let out a choked sob, and she pressed herself against him, letting him tuck his head on top of hers as they cried together.

Leif’s hands clasped at her waist- at her empty stomach.

She pressed her hands against his, and remembered that morning, a million years ago, where she’d sworn she felt a flutter in her stomach.

Was the baby even alive when she felt the tiny flutter, or was it just blood loosening up in her abdomen?

She _cried_ , practically loosing herself to the tears as she let it all out, huge, gasping sobs. Leif at one point tried to comfort her, but then he just ended up adding his silent sobs to Zoey’s loud ones.

__________

In the morning, Zoey called in sick, and Leif called in to take a vacation day, even if he probably could’ve justified a sick day.

Before that, they hadn’t moved since they’d started crying in Zoey’s bed last night. After they’d cried themselves to sleep, they woke up around eight, still pressed against each other like there was nobody else in the world left.

Eventually, Leif asked Zoey if maybe they should call in, because no way were they going to work. Zoey nodded against his chest, and they hadn’t even broken their tight embrace when Leif handed Zoey her phone and got his own off the nightstand, so they could call into work.

After Zoey called in, she decided to check her missed messages, because she had a ton of them, and she just wanted the little red numbers to go away and stop haunting her.

Her mom had texted her yesterday afternoon around 4, asking if she was coming over today, and if so, if she could pick up some milk and chocolate ice cream from the store if she passed it by. 

Max had texted twice, the first at 3 in the afternoon the previous day with a meme about horses that she didn’t take the time to understand, and then again around 8, with a (fake) article about how the Dixie Chicks and Ariana Grande were doing a Tina Turner tribute.

Simon had texted her a fair few times, asking about what she was doing tonight because he saw that there was a stilt walker who was going to go up and down Fillmore Street and set a world record, again an hour or two later asking where she and Leif had gone, and a third telling her that apparently Joan had texted them a million times.

She had. If twenty texts asking where she was counted as a million, which it did.

Zoey didn’t respond to any of them.

As for Leif, he’d gotten the same barrage of texts from Joan as Zoey, one text from Max with a Rosh Hashanah meme (Max liked to send people memes to start conversations, it was his thing), and a couple from Tobin, asking if he was okay.

He responded only to Tobin, telling him that Zoey was sick, and they weren’t coming in to work today, so that he could help her. But he stopped before he sent the text.

“What do we tell people?” He asked, somehow still hoarse from last night.

“Anything but the truth... I don’t want people’s sympathy,” Zoey responded, monotone and quiet.

“I’m gonna tell Tobin that you’re running a fever?”

“You... you don’t have to lie on my behalf... if you don’t want to,” Zoey said, quieter. “I just don’t want people to look at me any different... but I understand if you wanna tell people, especially Tobin.”

“Maybe I will... but not right now. I don’t want the looks of sympathy from anyone, or fucking food, god forbid,” Leif agreed. 

Zoey knew that a day would come where her dad died, and maybe then, she’d accept food, but right now, there was absolutely no way. It was her business, and she hadn’t even known whether it was a boy or a girl, hadn’t even _names_ it... and now it was dead.

Leif sent the text about Zoey having a fever to Tobin, and the two of them turned off their phones in unison and laid there for awhile.

Finally, Zoey got up to change her pad, and Leif got up to make some toast, even if he really wasn’t hungry. He was about to offer Zoey some, when he heard her retching in the bathroom.

He came in to see Zoey kneeling next to the toilet, now having vomited in it... like she was still pregnant and having morning sickness. The nurse had said that her body would think that she was still pregnant for awhile.

And Zoey remembered this, which was probably why she burst into tears.

Leif held her and rubbed her back, whispering to her that she was going to be okay, ignoring the distant _pop_ of the toaster. 

He got Zoey back in bed and ate his cold toast standing up in the kitchen, and then he found the collection of clothes he’d left over here to change into a Better Worlds t-shirt and sweatpants, and brushed his teeth thoroughly, feeling like he might take the enamel off with the way he was brushing.

He climbed back into bed with a shivering, sniffling Zoey, whom he held silently. The two ended up napping for another two hours.

The day passed by both so, so slowly and also so quick it gave the pair whiplash. Zoey started to get some vaguely concerned texts in the afternoon, now that she hadn’t responded to them at all, and she ignored them for as long as she could until she just handed the phone to Leif and begged him to text her mom, David, Simon and Max for her.

“I can’t... I _can’t_ ,” she whispered. “Just... please tell them I’m sick, and don’t tell them that it’s you... please.”

So Leif did, giving all four people almost the exact same text, that she (Zoey) was sick and running a fever. And after that, of course, came back four almost identical texts asking if she needed help or if she wanted them to bring her soup or something.

Leif told her this, and Zoey burst into tears anew. She shook her head, pressing her face against the sheets.

Leif told them, as Zoey, that she was fine, she had held, and that she didn’t want to get them sick.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon in the bed, until finally Leif got up and made him and Zoey each a bowl of Lucky Charms, at Zoey’s tearful request. The two didn’t watch TV, barely spoke, barely even moved all day... just cried and laid together, mourning their loss as one. No words needed to be said... words were too much for both of them right now. So they stayed there, they stayed right where they were and held each other.

Because to get up, to move, would be to accept that the world still moved even if their world had fallen completely apart. 

Even if they wanted so badly to stop the world just to _breathe_ for a moment.

The best they could do was stay there in those four walls, where all that moved was them shifting on Zoey’s tiny little queen sized mattress. That was the best way they could make the world stop.

They ate the Lucky Charms in silence, Zoey got up to change her pad again and put the bowls in the dishwasher and brush her teeth, and then they were back where they started as the evening turned into night, as they laid there, staring into space like twin statues.

Finally, Zoey spoke again, quiet and small. “Maybe you should take a shower... you don’t have to stay here overnight if you don’t want to. This is depressing.”

“It is... isn’t that kinda the point? I’m okay with it being depressing right now.”

Zoey nodded. “Me too.”

“I’m going to stay here because I think we’re both going to be complete emotional wrecks if we’re alone... unless you want me to go.”

Zoey shook her head. “Please stay if you’re okay with it... I just don’t want to force you to stay.”

“I think I have to go back to work tomorrow... but I’ll come back here after.”

“If you’re gonna stay here awhile, you should get some stuff from your apartment... if you want to.”

“Zo... you’re not forcing me to stay. I need you right now, and you need me... if you want me to leave, I’ll leave, but as long as you want me, I’ll stay.”

“ _Please_ ,” she breathed, coming up to press her head into his side. “Please don’t leave me if you don’t have to- I know you have to work, you can do that- but other than that that... please don’t leave me... even if I failed.”

“Zo... Zoey... come here,” Leif said, wrapping her up in his arms. Zoey hiccuped and pressed into him, letting him hug her as tight as he wanted.

“You didn’t fail... it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Please believe me... don’t blame yourself, Zo.”

“Who else do I blame?” Zoey sobbed, pressing her face into Leif’s chest.

He held her all the tighter. “Nobody... it’s nobody’s fault. Least of all yours. You did everything right... it just... it just _happened_.”

Zoey clung to him, and he cried some more tears of his own.

They cried themselves out again, and eventually, when she’d been reduced to sniffles, Zoey lifted her head up slowly, eyes red and puffy.

“You should go take a shower... and if you’re gonna stay... maybe you should go ahead and go get stuff from your place before you’d have to do it tomorrow to get work clothes... please? Please... take care of yourself.”

“Only if you take care of yourself in return... try and take a shower too, while I’m gone?” Leif asked quietly.

Zoey nodded. “Okay.”

Leif sat up and kissed her, soft and chaste and almost not there, but still there, still _there_ and _alive._

And then he stood, told her he’d be back in an hour, and then Zoey was alone in her apartment, where everything felt so big and she felt tiny, swallowed up by it.

She went into the bathroom and took a shower, and she brushed her hair, matted and crazy from all the rolling around on the bed she’d done. She left it down, hoping that Leif would braid it when he got back, and put on a new fresh pad and underwear and fresh pajamas. 

Zoey went back to her bed, and just as she did, she heard her phone ding with a text.

**Mom: You still doing okay? I can run some soup over if you need me to. [10:13 PM]**

And that was when Zoey realized that it had been now twenty four hours since she had finally gotten out of the hellhole that was that stupid, stupid hospital.

Twenty four hours since she’d learned that her child was dead.

**Me: I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m gonna take a string of sick days at work and then I’ll be good as new. [10:15 PM]**

Which meant that eventually, she’d have to go _back_ to work.

To acknowledge that the world was still spinning no matter how hard she tried to stick to one place. To see people, to direct people, to do work and have to focus, and forget about how she’d bled all over the girl’s bathroom and how she had ignored the blood until it was too late.

She wasn’t sure how the hell she could even cope with going back outside at this point, much, much less go to work.

Why did the world spin so fast when all she wanted was for it to slow down? It slowed down whenever there was a song being sung to her... why could it not slow down for her now, just for a minute?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please.... comments water my crops


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey goes to her parent’s house, and tells the truth a lot sooner than she thought she was going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WE GOT RENEWED!! WE FUCKING GOT RENEWED!! _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_**

Leif returned with a duffel bag full of stuff, freshly showered and smelling much better, and he’d brought some Febreze from home as well.

He had Zoey get up for a second as he sprayed the bed down with Febreze (“Just so it smells a little nicer after we laid on it all day,”) and then they both got right back into bed.

Zoey mustered up the courage to ask Leif to French braid her hair, and she sat up against him while he did it, long, bony fingers gently cross crossing her hair, gently coming it through with his fingers, making sure there wasn’t a single snag as he did her hair in two pigtail French braid, so tight that they ended above her shoulders, even if her hair had several more inches to it than the braids portrayed.

Leif had gotten out his laptop and said that they should watch a movie, and Zoey quietly asked Leif to pick. He picked Back To The Future, just for the hell of it, and the two settled back to watch, never mind that Zoey fell asleep with her face pressed directly into the sheets fifteen minutes into it.

Leif had woken her up at eight to kiss her goodbye, tell her that he’d be back in the afternoon, and then he left.

Zoey went back to sleep, woke back up at ten, and thus begun her day, almost exactly like yesterday, only this time, she was completely and totally alone.

Leif wasn’t there to hold her, for her to cry into like a pillow like a teenage girl. It was just her against the world, and these four walls pressing against her soul.

Yeah, no. There was no way that she was going to stay right here, alone. It was okay, almost therapeutic, with Leif, but alone... nope.

**Me: I’m feeling much better today but not really good enough to go to work, I think I’m gonna stop by for a bit, if that’s okay. [10:14 AM]**

Twelve hours since she’d last texted her mom.

Thirty six hours since she’d left the hospital. 

Forty four hours since she’d arrived at the hospital.

**Mom: That’s alright, you never have to ask to stop by, Zoey. [10:15 AM]**

Zoey changed into something that could be considered clothes, as in, an oversized NASA t-shirt and black leggings. The need to change her pad reminded her why she was at home, and the two ibuprofen she swallowed were for the cramps that were still easily the worst she’d ever had, even if she was used to it by now. The braids she smoothed down with water felt like they were all that was holding her together.

She took the train and walked the rest of the way, letting herself in with her key, and immediately sitting down on the couch with her dad. “Hi, Dad,” she said quietly.

He was in blue and white striped pajama pants and a green sleep shirt, which was out of character, because usually her mom did dress him in normal-ish clothes by eight.

“Zoey? Is that you?” Her mom’s voice floated to her from somewhere down the hall.

“Yeah,” Zoey called, not getting off the couch. 

Her mom drifted in, in Elmo pajamas, holding a cup of coffee. “You even went with the pajama day theme, too,” she greeted.

“I wasn’t aware it was pajama day... I would’ve worn something a lot rattier.”

“Oh, but you look awful, Zoey,” she said, setting her mug down on the coffee table and coming over to press the back of her hand against Zoey’s forehead.

“I never said I was cured,” Zoey said ruefully. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing contagious.”

“Maybe you’re not contagious, but you’re burning up!” She said, turning out of the room, probably in search of the thermometer.

In an effort to make herself appear in slightly better health than her mother was making out, she jumped up to follow her down the hall, and into the bathroom, where, just as she’d suspected, she had produced a thermometer.

“Open up,” her mom ordered, and when her mom ordered like that, you obeyed.

Zoey stuck out her tongue, and her mom shoved the thermometer inside, and Zoey closed back up. “Now wait for the beep, and I’ll make you some soup,” her mom said, heading out towards the kitchen.

“Oh, god, not this early in the day. Besides, I’m nauseous as hell,” Zoey said as she followed, keeping the thermometer clenched between her lips on one corner of her mouth, like a farmer with a strand of wheat, and talking out of the other end of her mouth.

“You’re sure you don’t have anything contagious?” Her mom opened up the refrigerator, and frowned at the contents.

“Positive.”

“Okay, maybe stop talking until the thermometer finishes up,” she said, shutting the fridge. “Can I get you something, though? Just nod or shake your head.”

Zoey felt like a six year old, home sick from school, following her mom around as she bustled about to take care of her, stubbornly insisting that she was fine. 

She nodded at her mom. Some water would be nice.

Her mom did, in fact, get her a glass of water, and had just handed it to her when the thermometer beeped.

Zoey took it out and studied it. “A hundred even.”

“Oh, dear... drink your water. You’re positive, completely positive, you don’t have anything contagious?”

“If I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, trust me, I wouldn’t have come.” She drank the water slowly, savoring it as it cooled down her throat.

“So, that means you know exactly what’s wrong with you, what is it?” Her mom asked.

_Oh, god._

She’d expected her mother to fuss over her a little bit, she was definitely more than a little bit flushed, but she was a hundred percent sure she wasn’t contagious... she also hadn’t been planning on telling her mom. Not this soon. 

But she didn’t have any excuses.

“I just-“

Her mom cut her off, her face lighting up, and- oh _god_ -

“Are you pregnant?” Her mom asked, her voice growing in excitement.

Zoey couldn’t hide the sadness that seeped into her voice. “No... no, I’m not.”

“Oh... so you’re trying?” Her mom had thoroughly latched onto her being pregnant... and Zoey still didn’t have any other non-contagious diseases or ailments that came to mind that included a fever besides, well, a fever.

“I... no.”

“Then what? Because you wouldn’t have had that reaction if it didn’t have something to do with that.”

Yep, no way that she was going to get out of this one. 

“I... I need you to promise you won’t be mad at me... and that you won’t tell anyone else.”

Her mom tilted her head in confusion. “Did... did you have an abortion? Because you know that I’m not going to judge you on tha-“

“I had a miscarriage,” Zoey whispered. Almost inaudible. Like it was something to be ashamed of... which it was. Maybe her mom hadn’t heard... maybe she could just leave, so that she wouldn’t have to say it louder.

Because now she would have to know that her daughter was so _stupid_ that she’d had a miscarriage, that there had been a death, and now she’d feel obligated to comfort her... what happened when her dad died? Because it wasn’t an If anymore... it was a when. 

But she’d heard.

She strode towards Zoey, took the glass from her hands, and silently gathered her up in her arms.

Zoey, of course, had more than a little bit craved her mom’s affection, so she was more than a little bit crying now that she was getting it.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her mom said softly, gently stroking her hair, and then coming around to cup her cheek and step back. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby... you’re gonna be okay.”

“It is something to be ashamed of!” Zoey cried, tears now thoroughly streaming down her face. “I... I was spotting in the morning, and I ignored it cause it was supposed to be normal, that’s what the doctor had told me last week, and it got worse and worse until it was so much I couldn’t _walk_ because I was so freaked out-“

“Hey,” her mom shushed, stopping Zoey’s heartbroken ramble. “Hey, it isn’t your fault... there wasn’t anything anyone could do. I swear to you... there’s nothing you could have done.”

Zoey leaned back into her mother’s embrace, crying even more- even sobbing a little bit- as her mother rocked her from side to side, shushing her like she was six again, so sick she was crying.

“When did this happen?” Her mother finally asked, after a long moment.

“Two days ago... I was gonna go get my sixteen week ultrasound today. I was gonna tell you I was pregnant today, Mom. Leif almost called you while I was waiting in the ER... and I told him no cause I didn’t wanna make you rush around and come..” Zoey let out a hiccupy sob into her mother’s shoulder.

“Shh... it’s okay. I would’ve come no matter what I had to do, but I’m not mad that you didn’t call. I’m here now, baby.”

Zoey leaned back and sniffled, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Can I stay here today, at least until Leif comes back from work?”

“You can stay as long as you want, Zoey. Your dad’s decided to binge all of Survivor again, but I’m sure we can change it if you want something else.”

“No... I’m good with that,” Zoey said softly.

“Did you take something this morning? I’ve never had a miscarriage, myself, but I know that there’s nasty cramps that go along with it- plus, you’re still feverish.”

“I took two ibuprofen an hour ago.”

“I’ll give you some fever medicine in an hour or two. Let’s go watch the season finale of Survivor China, okay? Or you can go rest, if you want..”

“Survivor China finale sounds good,” Zoey said.

She padded back down the hall, barefoot, with her mother (also barefoot), and the two sat on either side of Zoey’s father on the couch. Zoey snuggled down and leaned her head against her dad’s shoulder and holding his hand, wishing he could put his arm around her.

Wishing, if she told him what was going on, he would be able to speak in a way other than a heart song.

The season finale of the Survivor season they were watching wrapped up, and her mom wordlessly put on the next season. Zoey wasn’t really paying attention to any of it, staring down at her dad’s knee, at the rug, knowing that she was going to fall asleep at some point very soon, unless something happened that would force her to be conscious.

Zoey did, in fact, doze off, and when she woke up, she heard voices, and didn’t open her eyes, stubbornly hoping that she could just fall back asleep. She didn’t care what position she had fallen asleep in next to her dad, just as long as she didn’t have to talk to anyone. 

As she woke up more and kept her eyeballs securely shut, she actually started listening to the conversation.

Oh great, oh geez... Max was here.

What the fuck was he doing here? Like, okay, he was high key friends with her parents, that wasn’t anything new, but of all the times to be here...

“Zoey doesn’t look so hot... actually, she looks literally hot. Is she okay?” Max asked, keeping his voice low, as to not wake her up.

_Please don’t tell him please don’t tell him please don’t tell him please don’t-_

“She’s running a fever and didn’t go to work, is all,” her mother said quietly.

“Oh, damn... she’s-“

“Not contagious. Don’t worry a bit, she’ll be fine, and so will Mitch. Cut the chatter, what did you bring me?”

Zoey heard the rustle of a paper bag, and could almost hear the smiles of Max and her mom.

“So, there’s a new organic bulk foods store downtown, and I know that you mentioned that you’re looking for more steel cut oatmeal,” Max said, and Zoey could picture his smile in her head, a proud, happy one.

Her mother would be smiling appreciatively, and would take the container from Max. 

“Thank you, Max, this looks delicious. Can I get you something, as long as you’re here?”

“I actually also brought chocolate ice cream and milk, I was thinking that I could get Mitch something?”

She felt her father’s arm that she was leaning against move, and her head fell down into her dad’s lap, a bit hard, also probably a lot awkward, but as long as nobody could tell that she was awake, because she really didn’t want to tell Max what was going on. 

Not that he still had romantic feelings for her (he didn’t, this she knew for a fact, thank you heart songs) but she didn’t really wanna tell her best friend about her miscarriage just yet... maybe even ever. Zoey hadn’t been planning on telling her mother as soon as she did, this was so _not_ going to be the day that she told everyone she knew that she’d failed hard enough to kill a baby.

The taboo buzzer buzzed one long buzz, and Zoey heard Max and her mom laugh. “Poor Zoey,” Max chuckled.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” her mom said, laughing. Zoey would be _eternally_ grateful that her mom wasn’t betraying any hint that something was actually the matter. “Maybe we’ll make her a milkshake, too, for when she wakes up.”

“If ever. She looks dead to the world.”

Max and her mom went to the kitchen, and Zoey took the time to readjust slightly in her dad’s lap, slowly and in a way that looked like she was just shifting in her sleep, in case someone else was here. Luckily, nobody else said anything, and the blender turned on, stupidly loud.

Yeah, no. Even if she _was_ asleep, no way would she have been able to sleep through that. She decided that now was the time to ‘wake up,’ as in, she opened her eyes and halfheartedly watched whatever the fuck challenge the Survivor contestants were doing while Max and her mom laughed in the kitchen.

Max came back holding a chocolate milkshake, and he smiled at Zoey. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he greeted, setting the milkshake on the table in front of Mitch, and her mom leaned over her to guide the straw to his mouth.

“How long was I passed out?”

“Max only just came, but it’s been many an episode of Survivor,” her mom said.

“Well... hello, Max. As you can see, I am feeling shitty, let’s get that out of the way now.” She didn’t elaborate, and she certainly wasn’t planning to. Maybe not ever.

“Yeah, I see that. We made you a milkshake too, want it?” 

Zoey was still mildly nauseous, but a milkshake sounded really good. It would be cold, and it would be refreshing, and bonus, it was a fucking milkshake. Just so long as she didn’t throw it up later.

“Sure, why not,” Zoey said, stretching out and sitting up.

Max turned to go get it, and her mother gave her a look that Zoey knew meant that she didn’t tell him, and she wouldn’t tell him, she wouldn’t let him on in the slightest way.

Zoey sent back a look that she hoped said that she understood. She was better at being empathetic when people sung their feelings out at her.

Max came back with another milkshake, armed with a pink bendy straw. Zoey thanked him, and pressed it to her wrists, breathing out a little bit as the cool glass cooled off her blood.

“Sit, stay, it’s pajama day,” her mom rhymed, sitting back down on the other side of Zoey’s dad. “Watch some Survivor with us.”

“If you insist, Maggie,” he said in a joking tone. He gave Zoey a questing look, and when she nodded, he sat down next to her on the couch.

So now, if Zoey wanted to nap some more, she was either fucked to have Max and her mom make fun of her while she slept (maybe more Max than her mom, since her mom knew why she was so tired), or she could just. Not.

So she tried, she really did try, to focus on the show, but then her mind drifted... and good god.

Zoey had had a miscarriage two days ago... and you don’t stop thinking about it when two days pass.

She would’ve come here with Leif, all smiling and happy, to tell her mom and dad that she was pregnant today, if everything was normal. Maybe she’d have even told her brother, if he was over here. She would’ve told Max very very soon after, if not the same day.

Instead, she’d told her mom that she lost the baby.

Zoey hadn’t had a chance to share the news excitedly with everyone... and Leif didn’t count, because she had been a lot more skeptical when she’d discovered she was pregnant.

_”I’m in a place in my career where I think I can have a baby, Joan’s not gonna kill me over that, I know that much... but I’m scared, Leif.”_

_“About your career, or..?”_

_“Yeah, but also about raising a kid. I don’t know how David and Emily are freaking doing it... Zach’s a year old and he’s eating everything, how have they not had mental breakdowns?”_

_“Trust me, I’m sure they have. Zoey, just... hear me out. I... I’m not going to force you into this, you can do whatever you want and it won’t affect our relationship, but... I really want a kid. Trust me, this wasn’t intentional, you getting pregnant, but... I do really want this. And I’ve wanted it for a long time. I’ll support you, whatever you do, but... if you decide to have the baby, I’m here for the long run. Not that I won’t be, otherwise. But if you were worried about how committed I’d be..”_

_“I was kinda worried, so, I do genuinely appreciate you saying that,” Zoey said, waving the plastic pregnancy test with one line on it to punctuate her point. “But Leif... how are we gonna have a kid? How am _I_ gonna have a kid? I’d be all on board if I wasn’t fucking terrified.”_

_“I’m terrified, too, but... we can do it, together. I’m sure of it. I really want this, Zoey, and I’m not trying to pressure you, but-“_

_“You can present your case without trying to pressure me, I will allow that, Jesus, Leif.”_

_“Sorry. But, like... doesn’t it appeal to you... in a weird way? Getting to tell our families that you’re pregnant, getting to pick out tiny baby clothes and decorate a nursery... and put a _baby_ into a nursery in tiny baby clothes... it’ll be ugly, but it’ll also be beautiful.”_

_“Maybe you’re right.”_

A tiny, tiny part of Zoey wondered what would’ve happened if she had decided to get an abortion. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten so attached, and she would’ve been able to move on with her life, rather than lay in a bed with Leif for a full day, crying, because she hadn’t had to have an abortion. She’d killed the baby anyway.

Maybe she wouldn’t have had this huge of a hole in her heart if she’d gotten rid of it before she got attached to it.

“Zoey? You in there?” Max said out of fucking nowhere, waving a hand in front of her face. She jumped a mile.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Max said for the second time today. “You zoned out so bad it looked like you were dead or something.”

“I’m dead inside,” Zoey joked.

Even if, just maybe... it wasn’t really entirely a joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos snatch my wig, and comments snatch my heart :,)


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey continues to watch Survivor at her parent’s house, and her fever begins to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor zoey,,, poor, poor zoey *hurts her*

Zoey absently watched Survivor with her parents and Max, and she was starting to wonder if she needed to text Leif where she was, but not knowing what time it was, and not wanting to pull out her phone, or participate in any of the conversation her mom and Max were having, and... yeah.

Eventually, something had to disturb her absentee TV watching, and it was her hearing the front door unlock, and knowing that the only people who had keys were her parents, her, and her brother, she steeled herself to see a baby and possibly cry.

David and Emily came in, Zach in tow, David holding him on his hip, his other arm holding a large paper bag, while Emily carried a stack of magazines. “Mom, we brought your gardening magazines back, as promised,” he greeted. 

Zach made a gurgling sound and waved, his newest trick. He had a shock of thin red hair that stood up almost straight, his mother’s eyes and eye shape, and a very, very pale complexion, courtesy of the redhead genes he’d inherited, that had somehow skipped both David _and_ both of their parents, but grabbed right onto Zoey and Zach. He had the most adorable outfit on, too, a little blue baby t-shirt with a duck on it, and black and white striped pants that he kicked excitedly.

And it hurt.

Her mom stood to greet them, and took the magazines from Emily’s arms. “Thank you, you two. Care to join us for some Survivor?”

“Ooh, are we binging? Because I’m really in the mood for a binge. And also, David decided that he’s catering tonight’s meal.”

“But I wanted to say it!” David pouted jokingly. “In all seriousness, we stopped and got a lot of food, and I plan on cooking, and I was gonna call Zoey, but, surprise, she’s already here!”

“Hiya,” Zoey said quietly, waving from her spot on the couch. “I’m not getting up.”

“Not even for your favorite nephew?” David asked, setting Zach down on the floor. He was walking, but he was still very, _very_ unsteady, in the most _adorable_ way. He fell down on his butt after trying to toddle over to the couch, and everyone let out a collective “Awww.”

Too bad it sent pangs to her heart. 

Because, even if she hadn’t quite felt so (at least, anywhere other than deep down) before, now that she’d been pregnant, she knew that she _wanted that._

She was jealous of David and Emily, okay? She was willing to admit it, full frontal, at least to herself.

Zach stood himself up again, pulling himself up on the coffee table, and, with Emily following behind to make sure if he fell again, it wasn’t onto that same table, he toddled over to the couch, and tried to climb up on Zoey’s legs.

“Well, hello there, little sir,” Zoey said, leaning over to pick him up, even if it hurt her heart. She brought him up to the couch, and he stood on her thigh, Zoey holding him with one arm at his waist.

He was adorable. He was small, and carefree, and had no hurt in his heart. Nothing to cry over other than being hungry, or getting in trouble.

Zoey looked down and gulped down the lump in her throat, hoping- _praying_ \- that nobody was looking right at her.

Thankfully, it seemed that they were either staring directly at Zach, or looking at David as he described what he would be making.

Zoey wasn’t sure she could stay here, not with Zach climbing all over her, reminding her of the emptiness inside her.

“Zoey, you’re not sick, right? Because you look godawful,” David asked, suddenly concerned. And that would’ve been the perfect excuse, to leave and get out of here- but she didn’t take it.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get Zach sick, I’m not contagious. I’ll keep the feeling like crap to myself, thank you very much.”

David shrugged, accepting her response. “We’re trying to build up his immune system, anyway, so... wouldn’t have mattered either way.”

_Damnit._

Emily plopped down onto one of the armchairs near the couch. “I’m beat. You should go cook, David, I fear I may be too weak.” She put a hand to her forehead dramatically.

“Nah, you’re just hungry.”

Emily sat up and shrugged. “At least I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

David turned to go to the kitchen, and turned right back. “Oh, Zoey, I brought plenty of food, so is Leif coming? I can easily make another portion for him.”

“Well... I guess I should ask him. I think he thinks I’m still at my place.”

“Well, it’s stir fry and potstickers, so I can throw in enough for Leif while you ask, and if not, it’s offerings to Mom, as the sacred Leftovers. Oh, and egg drop soup for Dad, and anyone else who wants it.”

“I think I should get the leftovers, no matter whether or not Leif comes,” her mom said.

“I could go for some egg drop soup, actually,” Max chimed in, as Zoey pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was four thirty. Leif would be getting off work in a half an hour.

**Me: I spent the day at my parent’s house, and David’s come with eleven hundred pounds of food and he wants to know if you want some. Apparently it’s potstickers and stir fry. [4:32 PM]**

**Leif: I could go for that, I’ll come over there when I leave here. Sorry for not checking in all day, are you feeling okay? [4:33 PM]**

“David, Leif’s coming!” Zoey called down the hall. Cooking sounds and smells had already begun wafting down the hall.

“Cool!” David called back.

Zoey turned back to her phone, mindful that Max only had to turn his head slightly, and he would see their texts.

She realized, just then, that besides the most recent two texts, the most recent text was from the night before she’d miscarried. 

There’d been no need to text each other after that. They worked together, and then Zoey had called Leif from the bathroom, and then, they’d been together other than for when Leif went to his apartment briefly yesterday night. 

Still... her happy texts about The Great British Baking Show seemed foreign... like a million years ago, now.

**Me: It’s okay. I’m not feeling spectacular, but I’m fine. [4:33 PM]**

She needed to change her pad, probably. She’d brought pads, and she’d changed once when she woke up in the middle of an episode, changed it, and then went right back to sleep on her dad, but that had been hours ago. And, even two days later, she was still gushing blood.

And besides... after Zach climbed up into her dad’s lap and touched his face, while his grandfather looked at him with wide eyes... she needed a breather.

Or a good cry.

She excused herself, and ducked into the bathroom, which, luckily, was past the kitchen, so between the noises of David cooking and the TV in the living room, nobody was going to hear her. 

Zoey pulled down her pants, changed her thoroughly soaked pad for a new one, wrapped the used one up in toilet paper, flushed the toilet and pulled up her pants, and then curled up in a ball on the cold tile floor to cry.

She _wanted_ what David and Emily had. She wanted to have a heartwarming picture of their dad holding her newborn baby hanging up in _her_ house, too, she wanted her kid to climb all over him, she wanted to hold her _own_ damn child, not just her nephew.

Zoey wanted that life... and she’d come so goddamn _close_ to having it. 

_It was my own stupidity that’d ended me up here,_ she reminded herself. _If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine, and mine alone._

But absolving the blame didn’t make Zoey any less heart sick, didn’t make her cry any less.

She stayed in the bathroom a good long while, crying on the blue and green tiled floor as quietly as she could, until she managed to take ten deep breaths, stand up, and wash her face off, dab her braids with water.

Zoey returned to the couch, grateful that nobody said anything about how long she was in the bathroom, and found that Max was now bouncing Zach on his knee.

She smiled at Max and Zach, to make up for the fact that it made her want to burst into tears all over again. Max smiled back.

“Y’know, I think we need to be getting you a suit, Zach. You’re so adorable, you could make bank on it, be the youngest billionaire ever.”

“Ugh, no, if he makes bank, I want him to make it on virtue, and smarts,” Emily said, smiling.

“I dunno, he’s pretty virtuous, and he’s smart, right? Thou art intelligent, right?” He looked at Zach with wide eyes.

Zach gurgled and screeched.

“I pronounce him a baby genius!” Max said triumphantly.

“Only if he’s watching those Baby Einstein movies on VHS,” Zoey said quietly, not very enthusiastically, but was interested in at least _appearing_ enthusiastic. 

What heartless monster wouldn’t be enthusiastic about this adorable little baby?

“Oh, he has been. He’s mesmerized by them... and so am I. Like... I never thought I would be emotionally invested in a video of a bunch of toys, but if that damn penguin doesn’t make it to the end when we get home, I’ll be genuinely upset,” Emily said.

“I never watched those, I had Beauty and the Beast and the Little Mermaid on VHS, and whatever was on TV, and that was it,” Max added. “I could recite both movies as a child, and I can still do it. Tale as ooooldddd as tiiiime..”

“Well, we can always see if we can get the VHS to work, we were the family who bought every single Disney movie as it came out on VHS, we didn’t get a DVD player until 2010.”

“You didn’t have a DVD player until you were sixteen? God, no wonder you’re a sheltered kid.”

“For the record, I can also recite many a Disney movie.”

“Yeah, but at least my parents got a movie player in, like, 2006.”

“We have my parent’s old VHS, I wasn’t big on those as a child. I was all about the nightly news,” Emily said.

“Be serious,” Max teased.

“I am serious! I was a very enlightened child,” Emily laughed.

Zoey let the two of them talk... like they were family. And Max was family. He’d been Zoey’s best friend for what seemed like forever.

When would Zoey get to add her own child to the family?

God, and Emily seemed tired, too... if she got pregnant again...

Zoey wasn’t sure if she particularly _wanted_ to try again, but if Emily got pregnant, not only would she never be able to tell her brother about her miscarriage (not that she was planning on it, at least not for awhile), she’d also not be able to try for another baby until long after Emily gave birth, or she’d be upstaging them. And that wouldn’t be fair... it wasn’t their fault she’d lost the baby.

Zoey really wished Leif was already here... even if he’d be just as sad as she was, watching Zach climb on top of everyone, and wonder what it would’ve been like to have that for themselves.

It was another twenty minutes, before finally, finally, there was a knock at the door, and Max got up to answer it.

“Hey, dude,” Max said, and Zoey saw out of her peripheral that they fist-bumped ( _boys_ ), and then Leif came over to Zoey. “Hi,” he said.

Max sat back down next to Zoey, and then he started to get back up, before Zoey pushed him back down. “Leif can sit in a chair, he’s a big boy.”

Besides, if Leif was sitting next to her, it’d be even harder for them to pretend that everything was okay.

“Thus, I have been exiled,” Leif said, doing a pretty good job of pretending that nothing was okay, himself. He turned and dramatically flounced onto the other armchair, across from Emily. Emily giggled, and so did Max, but Leif and Zoey didn’t.

“I do that to David all the time,” Emily chimed in.

Wow, Zoey _really_ didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

She just wanted to go back to sleep. 

Eventually, she begun to feel guilty that David was all alone in the kitchen, cooking for seven and a half people, and even if it meant she’d have to make conversation.

She slowly walked into the kitchen, trying her best to ignore the fact that her cramps had suddenly gotten worse and it felt like she was being stabbed, and walking made it worse. Silently, she took over stirring the stir fry.

“Oh, thanks, but you didn’t have to. It’s kinda nice out here, just getting to be alone with my thoughts,” David said.

Zoey held her hands up in surrender, feeling thoroughly stupid. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll go.” She couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice.

David turned towards her, looking slightly concerned. “I was only teasing, I’m not going to turn down help.”

Zoey returned to the stir fry, her abdomen hurting ever more as she moved.

An awkward silence fell upon the kitchen, the only noises the clattering of dishes, the sizzle of the food. Zoey kept on stirring the stir fry, and David put water into the potstickers pan.

“Soo... how are you?” David said, trying to make this a little bit less crushingly awkward.

“I’m good,” Zoey lied. “And you?”

“Honestly? I’m doing great. Zach’s not easy, but he’s a lot better than he was as a newborn, I feel like I can actually almost understand him now. Almost.”

“What does gurgling and then drooling all over the couch mean, then?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. Note the almost in my statement, Zoey!”

“Mhm,” Zoey murmured, stirring the stir fry some more. 

_Yeah, way to make it seem like you want to have a conversation._

The kitchen was hot, and Zoey was hot, and not in an attractive way. She was probably a degree or two warmer than she had been earlier, and the heat off the stir fry didn’t help at all. She wiped sweat from her face and wished she could get out of here.

Finally, the potstickers and the stir fry finished up, as well as the egg drop soup on the back burner, and Zoey got out plates. 

She was pretty hungry after not eating anything since that everything bagel two days ago at work, and a chocolate milkshake this afternoon.

The two worked in tandem to plate the meal, and Zoey spooned egg drop soup into four bowls, because what the heck, she was starving, she wanted some soup.

Together, the two carried everyone their plates, and Max, Emily, and their dad, bowls of soup. Their mom started to get up to help, but they both shut her down.

Zoey, a lot less enthusiastically than David.

Finally, they carried out their own dishes, and together as a family, they ate their damn food on the couch, because what the heck? 

Zoey did her best not to scarf everything down, no matter how much self control it took. By the end, her bewildered stomach was hurting, along with the stabbing cramps getting a lot worse, because that was exactly what she needed, also along with still being _very_ warm, despite not being in the hot kitchen anymore.

Still, she insisted on getting _everyone’s_ dishes, and insisted on washing them _herself._ Was it partially so that she could cry a little, because she was in pain and Zach eating potstickers with his chubby little baby hands, sitting on the floor with his legs stuck out, was adorable? Absolutely.

Zoey just wanted to go _home._ Not here. Anywhere but here, really.

She had just wiped her tears and soaked the bottom of her shirt washing a spoon when she heard someone approaching, and cranes her head around to see.

“Hey, you okay?”

Damnit. It was Max.

“Yeah... I’m just running a fever,” Zoey said, turning back to the dishes. Max and her could talk while she was washing dishes.

“You just seem very... keyed down.”

“Yeah, because I have _no_ energy. Trust me, I’m doing just fine.”

Max stood next to her at the sink, and picked up a plate and a sponge. “Still, I might as well help you, why’re we making the sick person do the dishes, anyway?”

“Eh. ‘Cause I decided to. It’s not a big deal, you don’t have to help.

Max put soap on his sponge. “Yes, I do.”

The two of them washed the rest of the dishes in relative silence, and, to make sure her mom didn’t have to do anything with them later, they dried them, too. 

“You’re looking a lot worse than you were when I got here... can you at least humor my worrywart self and take your temperature?” Max asked, taking the stack of dry plates and putting them into the cabinet.

“I took it earlier, and I was a hundred and something, but sure, I’ll take it again, why not?” 

“Okay, well, there’s a very big difference between a hundred even and a hundred point nine.” 

“I’m probably fine, but I’ll take my temperature again,” Zoey said, putting the clean bowls into the cabinet.

Once all the dishes and silverware were put away, the two went for the bathroom, and Zoey took out the thermometer, that her mom had put away, even if she’d spent twenty minutes crying on her after setting it down in the kitchen.

Zoey held it in her mouth and gave a Max a ‘You wanted this’ look, and the two basically stared at each other until the thermometer beeped.

Zoey took it out of her mouth, and sighed. “102.1.”

“Yeah, uh... that’s a lot. Maybe you should go home and rest?”

“I napped today, and I napped plenty yesterday. Trust me, I’m fine.”

“You could at least take something for that... does your mom have anything?”

Zoey remembered when her mom had offered her fever medicine, and right now, she was honestly just glad that she hadn’t woken her up to give it to her, or that she’d given it to her in front of Max.

His concern was nice and all, but it kept getting closer and closer on the verge of him asking why she knew she wasn’t contagious.

“If I start feeling worse, I’ll go home, but trust me, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, 102 isn’t fine.”

“It isn’t. But if I felt sick enough to leave I would’ve done it already, trust me, it’s not like I’m scared to go home.”

“Okay, well, at least take something for it, okay?” Max asked, opening up the mirrored medicine cabinet. “Surely, your mom has some sort of fever medication.”

They found a bottle of aspirin in the back of the cabinet (most of it was full of her father’s medication) and Zoey swallowed some dry, just to prove a point.

Maybe it’d help with the fact that she felt like she was being mauled by an insane axeman in her abdomen.

“Okay, we good now?” Zoey asked, putting the bottle of pills back in the cabinet, back where they found it.

“Well, you sure aren’t good. But if you sit down and not do all the dishes again, and also, are you and Leif fighting?”

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments give me the will to live


	6. six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey escapes her parent’s house, thinks about other people, and has a song sung to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heartsong in this chapter:
> 
>  **carol ann** by coheed & cambria (yes zoe, it’s a bop)

“Like, seriously. You and Leif each said one sentence to each other, two if you count you giving him his food and saying ‘Here you go, sir,’ and him saying ‘Thanks’. So... you know that you can tell me this stuff, right?”

“No... we’re not fighting. Of course we aren’t fighting.”

To say that Zoey was blindsided was an understatement. She didn’t know that her and Leif’s pretending that everything was okay was so obvious, but also that what they were pretending wasn’t happening rubbed off as them fighting.

“You’re not being very convincing.”

“We’re allowed to sit in the same room and not talk over the TV?”

“Yeah, but Emily and I and your mom were talking.”

“And I’m feeling not great, and didn’t feel like joining the conversation much. And Leif’s tired, no doubt. We’re fixing bugs on the Chirp as the beta testers send them in, but today we were supposed to start work on an app to link to it. Well... I guess Leif’s started on that... I didn’t.” Zoey felt a pang of guilt, but she knew if she’d gone back to work today, she would have cried. At length.

“You’re sure, Zoey? Because you can tell me anything.”

“Seriously, Max, I’m sure. If Leif and I were fighting, you’d be the first to know. Well, actually, I’d tell my mom first,” Zoey said, as sincerely as possible. It wasn’t like she was telling a lie... but she was still hiding something from Max.

“Okay. Well, if you need me...”

“You’ll be on the couch right next to me. Now, c’mon, I think someone’s about to find an idol.”

Zoey and Max headed back into the living room, Zoey holding her wet shirt a bit out from her... wishing that the tiny, tiny bump she had would hurry up and go away.

There wasn’t anything left in there but blood, couldn’t she at least have a flat stomach if she couldn’t have a fucking baby?

Max, her mom, and Emily and David talked at length, with her dad occasionally jumping in with buzzes from the Taboo buzzer, and an occasional word or two he wrote on the computer with the program that Zoey made. Leif even joined in at one point.

But Zoey felt completely awful, and she leaned against her dad finally, resting her cheek on his arm. She really just wanted to go to bed at home, but she had to stay here at least until Emily and David left.

She heard the Taboo buzzer go off again, and felt her dad’s arm shift, like he was trying to get her attention. She looked up at her dad, and then at the computer, which had been turned towards her a bit.

‘GO HOME, REST’ he’d typed.

Max leaned over her to see what he’d written, and chuckled a bit. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he chimed in.

“What, what’d he write?” Her mom asked, leaning over herself to see it. 

Her dad pressed the clear button and slowly typed another message, and then turned to Zoey. ‘REST,’ it read simply.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Zoey said, throwing her hands up in joking surrender. “Looks like I’ve been exiled.”

“I’d say that you could stay, but no, he’s right,” her mom said, smiling ruefully. “Leif, will you-“

“Yeah, I was about to suggest this myself. She looks terrible.”

“I made her take her temperature, and it’s 102.1,” Max chimed in. “She wouldn’t go home.”

“I’m right here!” Zoey said, standing up. “But no, seriously, I’ll go home. I’ll see you guys soon, Mom, Dad, Zach, Emily, Max.”

“Hey!” David said. “I have been snubbed!”

“See you later... Zach,” Zoey repeated, leaning down to ruffle his hair. He’d settled on sitting on the floor next to the couch and playing with his toes, which didn’t hurt Zoey’s heart at all.

Unfortunately, neither she nor Leif owned a car, so they walked, in relative silence, to the BART station.

“Max thinks we’re fighting... if we’re gonna pretend everything’s fine for awhile longer, we need to do a different job of it,” Zoey said finally, quietly.

Leif took Zoey’s hand in his, gentle and sweet, but mostly in a comforting voice. “I guess so,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry I’m not back to work yet, I’ll come back as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Please don’t push yourself... one hospital trip was enough.”

“As long as I can stop running such a high fever, I can come back... I had some of my mom’s aspirin, but I’ll take some more in a couple hours.”

“The nurse said you might have cramps, are you having cramps?”

Zoey hesitated.

“You are?”

“Leif... I didn’t wanna say anything... but they’re _so_ bad,” Zoey said, letting some of the pain seep into her voice as she admitted it. “It feels like I’m being stabbed over and over again... it’s never been this bad.”

“Damnit... maybe you need something stronger than aspirin and ibuprofen. You were having back pain the day of, is that...?”

“My back’s fine, it’s my abdomen. It’s _so_ bad.”

“Should I carry you?”

Zoey wrinkled her nose. “I’m still embarrassed that I had to be carried the other day... no.”

“Okay. But... you did hear that the nurse said to make a doctor’s appointment to make sure everything came out, right?”

“I wasn’t listening after she... I just wanted her to go away, so I kept nodding.”

“I was tempted to do the same, but I figured if one of us needed to listen, it ought to be me. Can I make you a gynecologist appointment?”

“I have to go to a gynecologist?” Zoey thought about all the happy pregnant women sitting in the waiting room, she thought about the doctor feeling around down there, which she was uncomfortable with when she _was_ pregnant. 

“Yeah... to do an ultrasound and stuff.” Leif didn’t sound any happier about it than she did.

“Leif... what do we _do?_ ” Zoey choked out, almost inaudibly.

He squeezed her hand. “I don’t know.” 

“I... I told my mom, because she got suspicious of me saying that I wasn’t contagious, and then she got convinced that I was _pregnant_ and I-“ Her voice at the last few words of her sentence, and Leif guided her close, for her to lean against him and blink rapidly, while they still walked.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” Zoey whispered back. It wasn’t that they were in an area with a lot of people around, it just felt wrong to speak at any sort of normal volume. 

“What if we ever tried again? I’m not saying we do it now, or soon... just... would that be... wrong?”

“Leif... I’d be _terrified_ to try again... both because I never would’ve gone with this if it wasn’t on accident, but also... what if I lost the baby again?”

“It is _not_ your fault, Zoey.”

“Maybe it isn’t... doesn’t mean it doesn’t _hurt_ any less.”

“I know... I know.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and rubbed it gently with his thumb. Back and forth, back and forth. Keeping her centered. In the moment.

“Did... did you ever want a baby?” Leif asked suddenly.

“I didn’t... I’d never really thought about it very hard before I got pregnant. We weren’t even dating yet when Zach was born... it’s not like I had anyone to have a baby with even if I’d gotten baby fever. But even though you kinda had to convince me... I was... I was _ready_ to have a baby. I was a hundred percent on board... I was excited and _happy_.” She choked again, and had to look up to the sky to blink away her tears. “I don’t know if I could do this all over again if I got the same result.”

“One day?”

“Leif... I... I can’t talk about that right now. Just... let’s go home, okay? I’m not mad at you, I get it... just...”

“I know... not right now.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I was just... I was so ready to be a dad.”

“I know.”

As they got into more populous sections of town as they neared the BART station, Zoey began to notice the people.

A teenage girl and her boyfriend walked by with ice cream cones. Across the street, a woman in a pencil skirt, high heels, and a blazer talked into her Bluetooth, a father pulling two daughters along in a little red wagon, a group of teenage boys, a kid on a skateboard, a woman riding a scooter.

She wondered about _their_ lives. She wondered about the woman in the pencil skirt, where she worked, how high up the corporate ladder she was. Where was the kid on the skateboard going? What about the father and his two daughters, the teenagers, the woman on the scooter?

Even as her life felt like it was at a standstill, everyone else’s lives kept moving. 

The teenage girl and her boyfriend would go home, they would talk to their parents, talk on the phone. The ice cream would be eaten and eventually forgotten.

The father would get home with his daughters, maybe to his wife or husband. Maybe he’d sweep one if his daughters off her feet and swing her around in the air, and she would scream ‘Again, again!’ 

Her life felt like it was already over, but the lives of so many other people kept on moving. The lives of everyone else on Earth. 

The world didn’t revolve around her, she knew that. It wasn’t surprising to her that other people had their own lives, that she might never cross paths with the kid on the skateboard again. Or any of these people. 

A rabbi passed by, and a woman in sweatpants and an Adidas shirt, followed by a woman in a gold Louis Vuitton suit and five inch heels.

These people didn’t know about her, they didn’t care what she was going through. They might never see each other again.

The world kept on turning, and turning, and turning, and it wouldn’t stop, no matter how bad she needed a breather.

Nobody had sung to her since a few days before she’d gone to the hospital. Some breaks in when songs happened was normal, even breaks of this long, but she hadn’t even heard Leif sing, for Christ’s sake-

Oop. Never mind. There was music starting, and Leif had let go of her, he was going to sing. Quiet, sad guitar. Because why would he be singing something happy, when Zoey had just killed his child two days ago?

Rather than have any dance moves, he just sat down on the ground, kneeling on the sidewalk, staring at a few pebbles. Several people, including the woman in the Louis Vuitton suit, knelt down around him, probably his backup dancers.

Leif’s song was sung in a low voice, angry. Taunting. 

Haunted.

_”These are the words from my Carol Ann,_

_The girl I broke in half._

_Oh, I'm afraid there's nothing left,_

_No pieces to put back in place.”_

Leif looked up right at her, his face so full of emotion. Angry, and sad, and an emotion that made her stumble backwards into a shrub. 

_Guilt._

_I was a monster,_

_The things that I did I regret, I dismiss._

_Oh, it's a shame about Carol Ann,_

_And all she could have been._

The backup dancers began to move behind him, but Leif didn’t move, still singing right into her soul. 

And it made Zoey feel so fucking _awful_... he was singing to her. The woman who’d killed their baby. And he felt fucking _guilty._

_She soared with such grace,_

_As her body sailed through the windshield,_

_From the passenger seat._

_I was a monster,_

_Through neglect I replaced her love for these lonely days_

_Oh, she'll be forgotten_

_Oh, she'll be forgotten_

_Young hearts beat on_

_To a love that everybody wants._

_But we can't have it all,_

_So we take what little we can._

_Oh, mother did you see 'em comin'?_

_Did you see 'em?_

_Mother, did you see 'em sneakin' through the back door?_

_Stealing the time we wish we spent,_

_But lost it all._

__Just as soon as it’d begun, it ended, and Zoey was back to Leif as he drew her into his arms, completing the transition back into being normal and obeying the laws of space and time again._ _

___When I asked for time to stop for a bit, I didn’t mean like this!_ Zoey thought to the universe indignantly._ _

__Zoey and Leif took the train back to her apartment, where this time, Mo stuck his head out to talk._ _

__He was looking fabulous in a sparkling pink evening gown, hair done blonde in huge curls like Marilyn Monroe on steroids. In a good way._ _

__“Well hello... Zoey, you look terrible.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m aware. You look good, though,” Zoey said. She loved Mo, but she wanted this conversation to be over _very_ fast. She was ridiculously tired and really, _really_ just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. _ _

__“I do, thank you very much. I’m going to a party tonight, and I’m going to flaunt myself around before revealing that I am not a single man. It’s going to be so much fun.”_ _

__“You are quite the heartbreaker, I’m sure. Those men have no idea what’s coming,” Zoey said, trying her best to be enthusiastic, and just ending up sounding tired._ _

__“Okay, no. This conversation will not proceed any longer, please, for the love of all that is holy- and all that isn’t- go to bed. Leaf Man over here can unlock the damn door for you.”_ _

__“I’m working on it,” Leif said, plucking the key out of Zoey’s pocket. She really needed to give him a set of keys, she didn’t know why she hadn’t done it _forever_ ago._ _

__“Please do _not_ breathe anywhere near me,” Mo said._ _

__“At least I know that you care,” Zoey joked half heartedly. She did know that Mo cared, he just had a certain way of showing it. That was just Mo for you._ _

__“Go to _bed,_ Loey.” __

____

__“What exactly does that mean?” Zoey asked._ _

____

__“Well, Leif, Zoey... Loey! Admittedly, it isn’t the best ship name ever- Clarkelly, Zeif, Donnelarke, Zoleif, do come to mind- Loey does roll off the tongue quite well.”_ _

____

__Leif opened the door up, and Zoey probably would’ve kissed him right then and there if she wasn’t feeling so godawful. It was time to _leave_ this conversation. Again, she loved Mo, but she was very much not in the mood._ _

____

__“Just let me know when you finally have a love child, I already have a list of names that would work very well for that purpose.”_ _

____

__Zoey managed to disguise her sadness just long enough to say “If you say so... bye, Mo,” and retreat into her apartment before she almost burst into tears._ _

____

__Leif took her hand and basically dragged her to the bathroom, and even turned on the shower for her. “Please, for the love of god, shower.”_ _

____

__And she did, but kept her braids in. She was starting to get a headache, but she really didn’t care. She was more focused on getting clean and then getting straight to bed, even if it was only eight, now._ _

____

__God, it was already eight? It’d been four when David had showed up, so she’d spent three and a half hours there, plus the, uh, entire day she’d spent next to her dad, not really moving from the couch. Of course, she just now realized that she’d completely forgotten to tell her dad, which made her feel _terrible._ Her dad wasn’t dead yet... he deserved to know, if her mom knew._ _

____

__Just another way Zoey was generally failing at life._ _

____

__She got out of the shower, dried off, and put on her last set of actual pajamas- Cookie Monster pants and a matching shirt. She had plenty of pajama appropriate clothes in her wardrobe, but that was her final actual set of pajamas before she’d have to do laundry. She was reminded of her dress and black shorts in the plastic bag from the hospital, covered in dried blood, and she decided that she most definitely didn’t want to do laundry._ _

____

__Leif Febrezed the bed again, and Zoey sat on the edge of the bed for awhile, staring into space._ _

____

__Leif went and showered, himself, and came back out much cleaner, in sleep pants and a t-shirt, to find her still sitting there, staring into space._ _

____

__“You okay?”_ _

____

__“Not one bit,” Zoey said, biting her lip._ _

____

__“You have a thermometer, right? Let me take your temperature again.”_ _

____

__After a brief search for the thermometer, Zoey was still 102.1, but she was getting a headache now, and she couldn’t help herself from breaking off from reality and staring into space some more._ _

____

__“What are you thinking?” Leif asked quietly, kneeling down next to the bed to look up at her and hold her hands in his. It was a gesture that she appreciated, but it still made Zoey feel guilty._ _

____

__“Just... everything.”_ _

____

__“What can I do, Zo?”_ _

____

__Zoey genuinely thought about it... and came up empty._ _

____

__“There’s nothing _anyone_ can do,” she whispered._ _

____

__“I know.”_ _

____

__“Please, just... just sit with me?”_ _

____

__Leif climbed up onto the bed with her, and Zoey leaned into him, letting him put his arm around her and rub her shoulder with his thumb again. Zoey shuddered a little bit, melting further into his touch._ _

____

__He stopped. “What?”_ _

____

__Zoey could’ve _cried_ , right then and there. “Just... don’t stop. Please... _please_ don’t stop. I need that right now, Leif... please.”_ _

____

__She would deal with his guilt tomorrow. Today, she just needed his gentle gestures, his gentle love. His devotion never ceased, and Zoey felt like she didn’t deserve it, but here he was anyway._ _

____

__Maybe it’d heal her heart up a tiny bit._ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shoves my tumblr down your throat again* it’s team-zoey-has-two-hands ! send me zoleif/loey/zeif hcs but also give me comments because yes


	7. seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey’s fever remains, prompting a visit to the doctor, and she prepares to help Leif.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tension and ZEGTG give me angry stares*
> 
> look,,,,, here’s another 10k day worth of chapters.
> 
> *angry stares intensify*
> 
> also im fifteen now as of thursday at 11am so if that validates my works more,,,,, 👉👈

Zoey’s fever went up to 102.5 by the morning, and her cramps were ten times worse, so Leif called to make an appointment for her at the gynecologist right before he left for work. He warned her, that if she got up to 103, they were going to urgent care.

She was at 103.1 by noon, and she felt like the universe was flipping through radio situations with her temperature, and also she was fucking dying from the cramps. Still.

Zoey chose not to call Leif, because she felt guilty that he felt guilty, and maybe she could lower her fever before he got home.

To do this, she took an ibuprofen, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so she did, in fact, take an ice bath. She dumped five 32 ounce cups full of ice into a bathtub filled with cold water, and the shower turned on to all the way cold, and stepped in and held her head underwater for as long as she could before she felt like she was going to burst from both cold and lack of air.

She came up, gasping for air, and smoothed back her now several days old braids, not wanting to take them out until she went back to work, so she’d look a little bit nicer than she felt.

Zoey dunked her head in the bath a few more times, and then just kinda sat in there until she felt like she was going to actually die from cold and her lips were turning blue, so she got out, drained the tub, and wrapped herself up in blankets.

She took her temperature. No change.

**Me: Mom, how do I lower a fever? [12:34 PM]**

Her mom called her two minutes later.

“How high’s your fever?”

“103.1... and I’m legitimately dying from the cramps.”

“Did you take something for it?”

“An ibuprofen and an ice bath.”

“Oh, Zoey... maybe you should go to urgent care?”

“Leif threatened to take me if I got this high, and then I got this high, but I super do not want to go to urgent care.”

“Well, if you feel that strongly about it, you could come be in the guest bedroom and I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, I am so not doing that to you, not when you already have Dad to be worrying about.” Besides, she didn’t deserve her mother taking care of her.

“I’m more than happy to take care of you, Zo. You’re my daughter, and I could be a nurse on the warfront, I’d still have you come sleep in the guest bedroom.”

When Zoey had started graduate school, her parents had sold her childhood home in Berkeley and moved to their dream home here, with the greenhouse that her mom had always wanted but had only ever had in her and Dad’s flower shop in Berkeley (which had been franchised out, she just did florist things in a more freelancing way, now. She and her dad had been very close to retiring, when her dad had been diagnosed). 

The only downside was that Zoey and David lost their childhood bedrooms, and it was a four bedroom house, but two of the bedrooms were full of florist stuff and one was full of her parents.

“No, Mom, I’m really not gonna put that on you. I’ll go to urgent care when Leif comes home, sound good?”

“I’m a little bit worried, it’s been three days now, right?” 

Zoey took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah... it has been.”

“And you’re only now having your fever rise... I’m sure that that’s not a good sign. Go to the doctor, please.”

“Leif did make me an ob/gym appointment, it’s for Monday, I think. For now, I will go to urgent care, unless my fever drops again.”

“It needs to drop to 102 and then stay there or drop, otherwise go to the doctor. And if it stays at 102 for longer than twelve hours... go to the doctor.”

“So what I’m hearing, is, go to the doctor?”

“Yeah, no kidding. You need to take care of yourself, Zoey... seriously. You’re gonna hate yourself later if you don’t.”

Didn’t she already hate herself for loosing the baby? 

Zoey almost said exactly that, but decided not to tell her mother exactly how she was feeling mentally. Not today.

“I guess... how’s Dad today?”

“We made it to season 20 of Survivor, they’re blending together. Next he’ll want to binge The Price Is Right or Jeopardy, and then I think I’ll die a little inside.”

“Um, he’s already seen all of Jeopardy. With me. Remember how I knew all the most random questions as a small child?”

“You did, and by the time you were fourteen you knew enough to play on the game. I can’t believe you still never signed up.”

“I wanted to go to college, Mom.”

“Yeah, and if you’d gone and won a game or two, you could’ve paid for college, rather than taking out loans.”

“Maybe one day, but I think if I go on a game show today, I’ll go on the Amazing Race.”

“Well, no, you go to Jeopardy first, win a couple games, and then you put that you’ve won some Jeopardy in your audition tape for the Amazing Race.”

Zoey loved her mom for many, many reasons, but her ability to completely distract Zoey from the elephant at hand and even have good ideas for her future... that was super, super nice.

“Thank you for distracting me,” Zoey said softly.

Her mother’s tone changed, softer, and gentler, to be a harmonic match to Zoey’s. “Oh, anytime- do you want me to continue?”

“Actually, yeah.”

She and her mom went back to talking about the Amazing Race, Jeopardy, and how well Zoey might do on other game shows, like Wheel Of Fortune (“I’m good at spelling and filling in the blanks, otherwise I wouldn’t be a very good coder, but I’m not sure about Wheel over Jeopardy,” Zoey explained), America’s Got Talent (even if Zoey didn’t really have an applicable talent), and so forth, until her mom said that she had to go, because she was looking for a full time caregiver and someone had arrived for an interview.

“Wait, what? I mean, great, that’s good, because you need a break, but... you didn’t tell me?”

“I think it just slipped my mind... also, I didn’t want you to stress out much... even before... yeah. David’s here to help me interview these people, I’ll tell you who we pick.”

“Oh... okay, talk to you later,” and then Zoey was wondering how much her mother was actually telling her in regards to her father’s condition.

He hadn’t gone to a doctor’s appointment recently, right? She went to all his doctor’s appointments. She hadn’t missed one in the past couple of days, right?

Zoey checked her calendar, and thankfully, nothing was scheduled except for the monthly check-up in two weeks. But what if there had been something scheduled, and she’d forgotten to put it into her calendar? 

Because why was _David_ helping her, and she wasn’t even offered the chance to help? Even before she’d lost her baby.

Another question flickered into sight in her brain, and Zoey wished that she could exile it to the furthest, darkest corner of her mind, back where it’d come from, but she couldn’t. It’d reached it’s grubby, ugly claws out and latched onto her brain.

_What if her father was really dying now?_

He’d been dying for over two years now, but the medication he’d been on to slow the spread of the disease had been working for over a year now. What if... what if it’d stopped working? How much longer did he have to live?

Zoey took ten deep breaths, as Simon had advised her a year ago, that had still come in handy a lot of times. She breathed in and out, tried to center herself.

Even if her world was broken, the world kept moving... and so did her father’s disease.

What would happen if her father died in a few weeks? She felt selfish for it, but she knew that if it wouldn’t have completely broken her before, she would be totaled, leveled, if her father died. Her emotions were still so raw and the blood was still coming at full force and her cramps were still stabbing into her soul and starting to stab into her back, and if she lost two family members in the span of a few weeks... she didn’t know when she’d get her footing back.

But today was supposed to be about Leif. Fixing him. Because she could not have him feeling guilty anymore. It had only been a few days (three days, who was she kidding? It’d been exactly three days, fourteen hours, and fifty minutes since she’d left the hospital; it was her only signpost reminding her of time at this point, other than all the other people going on with their lives).

She still had promised to go to urgent care if she was at 103 when he got back, and she hadn’t changed from that since noon, but maybe she could do some fixing on the way. Multitasking.

Leif finally came home, and Zoey, not only feeling bad that he was feeling guilty but also feeling bad that they hadn’t really been much for affection other than him holding her and crying on each other for the past few days, greeted him with a kiss on the cheek while standing on a dictionary.

“Are you trying to schmooze me into not taking you to urgent care?”

That might have also been part of it. 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” Zoey said, rocking back on her heels from her tip toes on the dictionary. Leif was so _stupidly_ tall, if he didn’t lean down she needed to be on her tip toes, and even then, it was difficult. Thus, the Complete English Language Webster Dictionary, 17th Edition.

“Good afternoon... how was your day?” These questions any other day would be cheerful, but today, they were muted, sad.

“Lousy.”

“So was mine.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, until Zoey grudgingly went and got the thermometer.

Leif didn’t even take off his shoes while she went back to the front room, the device stuck in her mouth, making her feel like a cartoon character. All she needed now was a bandage wrapped from the crown of her head down to her chin, and maybe to become an anthropomorphic singing animal.

Finally it buzzed, and Zoey huffed in annoyance as she read the result. 

“Fucking 103.2. I took it at noon and it was point one, but... yeah.”

“I guess you’d better go get dressed,” Leif said, trying to put on a rueful smile- and failing, spectacularly. He just looked pained.

Zoey went and put on jeans and a different NASA t-shirt, and flip flops, because that’s how much she cared. 

Leif took her by the hand, and the two left, heading straight for the BART station.

The nearest urgent care was a good two stops away (or a twenty minute walk or ten minute bike, but there was no way in god’s name Zoey was walking, much less riding a bike), so they got on and stayed on, in rush hour, of course, so they both stood and hugged a pole, until they got to their stop and walked the rest of the way.

The entire time, Leif didn’t make any attempt at conversation. It was one thing to not talk on the train, especially during rush hour, but he didn’t make any conversation on the walks between riding the train, either.

He seemed... distant. Lost in his own thoughts, perhaps. Maybe he just hated her for loosing the baby but couldn’t bear to leave her, sick and in pain.

“Leif? You... you in there, buddy?” Zoey said finally. This day (or just this afternoon and evening) was all about making sure any shred of guilt Leif felt was thoroughly exiled, left to rot. Or taken up by her. Either way... she needed to nip this in the bud and she needed to nip it _now_.

“Sure hope so,” Leif joked. Nobody laughed.

“Okay, well... just... let me help you with feelings and stuff, okay? You’re taking care of me, let me take care of you?”

“Here? On the sidewalk?”

“Okay, maybe not right this exact second, but... I want to make sure you do okay, because if you... you’re very withdrawn, okay? And that scares me. And I know we’re both grieving in our own ways, but you’re scaring me.”

Leif took a deep breath. “I’m trying to have you _not_ have to help me, so that you can focus on yourself, but I guess this is what I get for dating a girl with a superpower.”

Zoey had told Leif, right up front, as they’d begun dating, about her superpower. It’d taken three days of explaining and making sure he didn’t turn tail and run, but he figured it out in the end. He was _very_ interested in it, downright fascinated, and he loved hearing about it when other people sung... sorta kinda when _he_ sung. He’d tried multiple times to force songs, just to see, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t succeeded. Yet.

“Actually... you did. A song about a dude who was in a car accident and his pregnant wife went flying through the windshield... but I think the emotions behind it were clear enough. It’s a good metaphor, anyhow.”

“Okay, look, Zo. I love you very much, but I don’t want to discuss this right here, right now. First... let’s make sure that you’re okay.”

“Fine... but at home, we’re doing a deep dive into your Leifmotions.”

Zoey could tell that Leif was _not_ looking forward to it, but he agreed, probably just to get her in the door of the urgent care.

After a twenty minute wait, Zoey got seen by a doctor, an old Polish man who spoke with quite the Polish accent, which was weirdly calming. He had to stick his hand Up There, and then he prescribed Zoey some prescription painkillers and sent her on her way. 

They stopped at a Walgreens on the way back to fill the prescription, and Leif bought some deodorant. A productive and successful visit to Walgreens.

Zoey took one of the pills when they got home, knocking it back with a glass of water, and then pounced on Leif in the kitchen.

“Can I at least make dinner first?” Leif joked, holding up the bag of frozen edamame. Neither of them could really cook, but Leif made some mean Jewish scrambled eggs and French toast, and Zoey could make a really mean grilled cheese, but other than that, they cooked frozen food and occasionally made a salad, because it’s pretty hard to fuck up a salad.

“Okay, do make the edamame, that’s good getting in touch with your emotions food.”

“Who decided that?”

“I did.” Zoey smiled at him ruefully, and opened up the fridge in search of a beverage, coming out with cranberry juice (or, the bane of Leif’s existence, either one worked).

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Leif said, a little quieter. 

“Oh, I’m not. I’m just trying not to be completely down in the dumps when I’m about to take a deep dive into your emotions with you.”

“You’re gonna fix me, huh?” Leif said it with a hint of... a hint of _something_ in his voice. Something... something darker. Deeper down. So far buried, it was hard to even tell what it was.

“I’m gonna do my darnedest to,” Zoey said, pouring herself a glass of cranberry juice and putting the container back into the fridge.

Leif stuck the edamame into the microwave, and while they cooked, Zoey got him his beverage of choice (Seltzer water with a maraschino cherry, he really _was_ a nerd) and then Leif made her sit down. Which she was grateful for, she was starting to get a headache again, and thus far, her cramps hadn’t improved. Activity usually made her feel better when they were regular period cramps, but they’d actually gotten _worse_ with walking around.

She flopped down on the couch and texted her mom while she waited.

**Me: How did shopping for caregivers go? [5:42 PM]**

Immediately, she saw her mom texting back.

**Mom: We hired one, her name is Nancy, she’s a registered nurse with experience. A bunch of weird people came before her, though. [5:42 PM]**

**Me: Well, I’m glad you found one. Dad’s doing okay, right? [5:43 PM]**

**Mom: He’s fine, he was thoroughly amused by one of the people we interviewed, but we ended up on Nancy. [5:43 PM]**

**Me: His next appointment is the one in two weeks, right? Just making sure I put it down correctly. [5:44 PM]**

**Mom: Yeah, it is. Speaking of which... did you ever go to urgent care? [5:44 PM]**

**Me: Just got home, I got prescription painkillers for my troubles, and a nice Polish doctor who slid his hand into my Chamber of Secrets. [5:45 PM]**

**Mom: 😂😂😂 Otherwise, are you feeling okay? [5:45 PM]**

Zoey almost felt like she was lying by telling that joke, but whatever made her mom feel better.

**Me: Well, my cramps are worse after I walked around, and the medicine hasn’t kicked in yet, but I’m sure I’m gonna be fine. I’m gonna eat dinner with Leif now. [5:45 PM]**

**Mom: Have fun![5:46 PM]**

Leif took the edamame out of the microwave, dumped it all out onto a plate, salted it, and brought it over to the couch.

“Do we really have to take a deep dive into the frightening waters of Leif’s Emotions?” He asked, picking up one of the edamame and eating it.

“Yeah, we do... otherwise, I’m going to be haunted by a song about a pregnant woman flying through the windshield for a long time,” Zoey joked, smiling ruefully, until Leif didn’t smile, and she swallowed her smile back down.

“Okay. Well. Lemotions, here we go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls come give me loey or zoey/max/leif hcs at @team-zoey-has-two-hands or in the comments or idk,,,, Don’t. im not ur mother.


	8. eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey and Leif cry it out, and Leif reveals what happened to someone important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> help zoleif’s cute

“Do you feel sad?”

“Duh?”

“Do you feel angry?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel angry at anyone in particular?”

“Does the universe itself count?”

“I guess it does... okay, this is not going to work, let’s try a different strategy.”

Zoey got off of Leif’s lap (which was a little bit sad; she did like his lap) and sat back on the other side of the plate of edamame. 

She picked up a piece of it and popped it open with her teeth, while Leif readjusted himself.

“Okay, so, no on me staring straight into your soul?”

“That only works if we were having eye sex.”

“Yeah, and I am so not having sex. At all. I’m sore as fuck.”

And emotionally sore, from accidentally having a child and loosing it, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen again if either of them climbed on top of the other.

“You know, if you’re insisting so much on deep diving into my emotions, we could just... talk?” Leif suggested, taking off his glasses to clean them. Not on his shirt, mind you, he carried around a special piece of fabric for that purpose. He was a very sophisticated man- or at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself.

He was a goofball and a half, on the inside.

“I guess we could do that,” Zoey said, eating another edamame and looking down in some relative embarrassment.

“And besides... is it too early to have this discussion? It’s been three days.”

“Three days, twenty hours, and fifty five minutes,” Zoey rattled off after a brief glance at the clock in the kitchen.

Leif stared. Zoey ate some more edamame.

“I just... if... I don’t want you carrying any big, _wrong_ feelings around for very long, okay? That’s all.”

“Okay, quit beating around the bush. One, I know the song I sung to you, which I guess works in a metaphor but if you found out about something I’m feeling other than this horrible, dark black _grief_ , it was in the choreography. So tell me what I need to stop doing, okay?”

Okay, so maybe it was a _little_ early to be pressing him about his emotions. But also... he was most _definitely_ incorrect about the song not being guilty.

“I... I’m sorry. I just... I want to help you. I don’t want you to be the only one helping the other, and then have me do nothing, even if I’m the one who has to carry around all the physical reminders, the one who can’t go back to work. But you have to go back to work, you have to go around and be a functioning member of society, and I have to stay here and try not to be running so high a fever, but I get to cry, I get to wear pajamas all day. You have to work... and that’s not fair. Just because you present as the functional one of us right now... doesn’t mean that I can’t help you.”

Was Zoey crying a little bit now? Absolutely yes. But she had to get through to Leif somehow- and oh yeah, maybe she should explain that she thought he felt guilty, too.

“Zo... okay. If you want to... it’s okay. I’m not saying you _can’t_ , I’m just saying...” Leif took a deep breath, and it was clear to Zoey that he was trying not to cry, himself. “Both of our emotions are so _raw_ right now... it’s hard.”

Zoey nodded, trying to blink back any more tears before they came out. This was the time for Leif, not for her. “I know... but... better to tell you you shouldn’t feel guilty, now when it’s raw, rather than when it’s... cooked, I guess?”

Leif looked at her. “Guilt? That’s what you think my ‘wrong’ emotion is?”

“Well... duh. It’s really not your fault... and... I don’t want you to carry that around. I don’t. It’s unhealthy, and it’s unbecoming of a man as great as you. You didn’t cause it... you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that I didn’t cause it... but... I’m always gonna feel some residual guilt, Zo. That I didn’t figure out something was wrong until then, that we couldn’t get you seen at the hospital sooner, that we’d gone to the hospital the first time you’d been spotting. And!” He cut her off as she was about to form retorts to those reasons he just listed off, “I’m aware that hindsight is dangerous, and at the point where you were spotting the week before, it’d probably already been too late, and that nothing either of us could’ve done would’ve prevented it, but... we’re humans. We’re irrational.”

“But I really need you _not_ to be irrational. You’re the rational force in my life... you keep me sane. And we are _both_ going to go insane if the other one of us goes crazy.”

“Okay, so... I’m supposed to just not feel guilty for things I can’t control?”

“Exactly! Was that even a serious question?”

“Okay... so yeah, it was a serious question, but I see the glaring problems with it now... fine. What am I supposed to do, then?”

“Acknowledge to the universe that nothing that happened was your fault. It wasn’t genes, it wasn’t response time, there was really, really _nothing_ that anyone could do. And then actually practice what you preach. When you think to yourself ‘what if,’ you need to remind yourself of this.”

“Sounds pretty... uh...”

“And get therapy. Everyone needs therapy after someone they love dies. Look at Simon, damnit, and then look at him after he got therapy. He’s a changed man.” 

“Okay, well... basically, I have to reinforce to myself over and over that it’s not my fault? Not judging, just asking.

“Yeah, basically. It’s like weeds. You have a garden, you have to keep weeding it, over and over and over, even if it fucking sucks, because otherwise, you’re gonna have a garden full of weeds and all your good plants are gonna be dead. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“I think I need therapy too, but... I think you’ve probably become somewhat of a therapist, what with this power. I mean, you kinda have to be.”

“I guess so... but I love my job. I’m not gonna drop everything and become a licensed professional.”

“Okay, but humor me. What if you did, and opened your own practice? That would be pretty magical... literally. Zoey’s Extraordinary Musical Therapy.”

“I have enough on my plate dealing with the emotions of everyone already around me, but if SPRQ Point goes under or I get fired for taking so many sick days, maybe I’ll think about it.” Zoey smiled a little bit. Appreciatively.

“Okay. Weed my garden, don’t let guilt grow in. That’s today’s lesson?”

“That’s a lesson you need to carry with you for awhile. As long as you need it and more. Got it? If I catch you acting guilty again, song or not, we’re doing this all over again.”

“Hopefully without the part where you awkwardly sit on my lap and stare at me while playing Twenty Questions.”

“Yeah... without that. For sure.”

“Other than that... do we need to talk about anything else this session, Doctor Zoey?”

“Just... please don’t be afraid to cry in front of me... you’ve been blinking back tears this entire time. And I have too, but- gah! Why does just _talking_ about talking make me start to cry?” Zoey had to wipe her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

“You just wiped your eyes.”

“Yeah... but I get to cry all day if I want, you don’t.”

“Did you cry all day?”

“No, I took an ibuprofen, an ice bath, and talked to my mom, and then sat here stressing out until you got home. Admittedly, I could have at least gotten dressed in something other than a shirt and underwear before you got home, once I knew that I was definitely going to have to go to urgent care with you.”

“Okay, well... why don’t we finish our dinner, and then we’ll have a good cry together? You’re right about me not getting to cry all day, but since you didn’t either... maybe we both need it.”

“Okay.”

The two ate the rest of the edamame in relative silence, and Leif put the plate away in the dishwasher. The two didn’t really accumulate many dishes alone, and they didn’t really accumulate many more when they were together.

“Also, you can go back to your apartment whenever you want to... please don’t stay over here on my account if you want to go home to your much nicer place,” Zoey called while he was in the kitchen.

“I don’t think I’m leaving until you’re ready to work again, because you at least need me in the afternoon and night if you can’t have me all day, and I’d be coming over here to check on you for several hours anyway if I wasn’t staying over here. Trust me, you aren’t forcing me to stay here.”

“Please don’t start forcing yourself if you really do want to go home, okay? Please promise me that.”

“Alright, if I want to go home, I’ll tell you, okay?” She heard the dishwasher close, signaling the end of this tiny short little conversation.

“Cool,” she said, and he walked back to her.

“Okay, so if we’re having a cry it all out session... maybe I should change?” Leif said suddenly, like he was just now realizing it.

It was a pretty good idea. Zoey didn’t particularly want to cry in jeans, either, if she had the choice. “Okay, you’re right. Meet back here in five minutes in comfier clothing?”

“Cool,” Leif repeated, and they peeled away, Leif to the bathroom, and Zoey to the bedroom. She opted to simply put back on the t-shirt she had been wearing before, and take off her pants. Leif had seen her naked plenty of times, her being in a shirt and underwear wouldn’t alarm him. 

They met back at the couch, Leif in an orange short sleeved t-shirt and black and white plaid shorts, and Zoey in her t-shirt and underwear.

“Hey, uh... actually, maybe let’s not do this on the couch,” Zoey realized out loud, and Leif nodded.

They headed for the bedroom, and they both sat down on their side of it, facing the walls on either side, rather than each other.

“How exactly do we do this, anyway?” Leif asked finally, after a long moment of silence.

“I was just gonna say the same thing,” Zoey agreed. “It sounds good in theory, but I don’t know how to carry it out in practice.”

“I guess... I guess we just think about it at length until we start crying?” Leif suggested.

“Not a bad idea,” Zoey said, and the two peeled off into silence.

Once their minds were set to it (literally), it actually wasn’t that hard to start crying. 

Just thinking about when she had been sitting in the bathroom, paralyzed by fear- that was enough to make Zoey start crying.

For Leif, she would learn later, it was seeing the look on Zoey’s face the exact moment that they’d been told that she wasn’t pregnant anymore. She hadn’t known that she’d reacted any way physically, because she’d just felt numb in the moment. Apparently, her face had fallen so, so hard, and she’d looked so crestfallen, so _broken_ , that remembering it made him cry.

They cried in their separate positions for awhile, but eventually, Zoey was the first to break the barrier, crawling over to Leif. He hugged her close, tucked her head under his, and rocked them from side to side.

Zoey heard noises from Leif that she had never heard before, even on the first day after, when they’d alternated between crying and staring into space together. He’d made some not pretty sounds that day, too, but this- he was really letting himself go. Which was good... but the sound of his sobs was haunting, to know all this emotion had been holed up inside until now.

After an hour of crying, they both calmed down into sniffles and small residual hiccups and sobs, and Zoey relaxed into him a bit more.

“Successful crying session?” Leif asked, voice hoarse and still a bit choked up.

“I’d call it one,” Zoey said, and like the dorks they were, they high-fived.

_________________

At work, Leif had been finding himself getting more and more annoyed with Tobin’s constant questioning of when Zoey would be back, and what exactly was wrong with her in more specific terms than ‘She’s sick,’ so he didn’t find it particularly comforting when Joan pulled him into his office, and he already knew that she was going to press about Zoey.

“Okay, you’re Zoey’s boyfriend, you know exactly what’s wrong with her, tell me why she’s now taken four sick days in a row and she left in the middle of the day on Monday- not only that, you left with her and didn’t come back until Wednesday,” Joan said, getting right to the point. “You’re not leaving my office until you tell me.”

“Jesus, Joan, she’s sick. Is that not enough for you?”

“No, actually, it really isn’t enough for me.” Leif should’ve seen that coming.

“Okay, fine. She’s sick, and to be more specific would be to get very personal. Okay?”

“No, not okay. I very, very much need to know exactly what’s wrong. Because this is neither normal, nor like Zoey at all. So I’d like to at least know how concerned I need to be.”

“She won’t be back for awhile, she’s running a high fever.”

“How high?”

“Do you really need to know?” Leif asked. He was already annoyed before this, but now he was good and thoroughly pissed. Couldn’t people just not be nosy for a bit? She’d be back when she was back, the end.

“Yes, I do, actually.”

“Fine. It’s 102.2. And she’s been running a fever about that high for three days, now.” Leif had woken Zoey up and taken her temperature and made her take more of her prescription before he left for the day, just so that he wouldn’t be worrying too much. He was very, very glad that her fever had gone down, but it was still entirely too high for him to be entirely comfortable in any way, shape, or form.

But how can you be comfortable and secure in your girlfriend being okay, when she’d just had a miscarriage four days ago, and she was stuck at home, feverish and having cramps that she described as being stabbed over and over again?

“Jesus, that’s high. Okay, I can tell that that’s not the only thing wrong, so I swear, I will detain you right here until you tell me _exactly_ what it is.”

“I don’t feel like I have to tell you, and I think detaining me probably violates some labor laws.”

“It does. Not to bring up the fact that we used to have sex- actually, totally bringing it up. When you have sex with someone multiple times, you tend to figure out how they work. Not just in a sexy way, but in general, and also, I’ve been your boss for seven years now. So tell me what’s actually going on.”

“You want to know what happened?! Fine. She had a fucking miscarriage, Joan! I had to carry her out of here because she was literally paralyzed with fear, and if she came into work, she’d have to pretend that she was okay while having what are apparently the worst cramps of her life, and knowing that she had a _miscarriage_ at her desk! Does that satisfy you?”

It all poured out of him. He was tired of not telling anyone (not that he particularly wanted to tell anyone, though; he wanted to forget it ever happened and not have to deal with people’s stupid sympathy. He’d tell Tobin soon, and he was sure Zoey would tell Max, Simon, or both soon, but he was so not there for telling anyone like _Joan_ , or announcing it to the whole world. He didn’t want the sickly sweet coated fakeness. 

Which was why he wasn’t planning on telling his family for awhile, if ever. He would _not_ be able to deal with all their fake sympathy bullshit, which with them, was more thinly coated disappointment. Maybe it was stereotypical for Jewish mothers to be guilt trippers, but it was rooted in truth. If the only Jewish mother you’d ever met was Leif’s mom... you would be ruined on Jewish mothers forever, most likely. Leif was mostly ruined... but he wouldn’t mind seeing Zoey as a Jew and also a mother.

So, with all of this in mind, Leif was _not_ prepared for Joan’s face to twist into an expression of genuine shock and genuine sympathy.

“Oh, Leif... I... I’m so sorry.”

Leif was still pretty pissed at her. “Save it.”

“No, seriously... I shouldn’t have pressured you. That was wrong of me.”

Admitting she was wrong? Maybe she was being genuine after all.

“Look, tell Zoey I’m going to forgive all her sick days she’s taking, and any more she has to take, and I’ll forgive your vacation day too, okay? It’s the least I can do.”

That was, actually, a pretty good thing. He could be glad she did that. “Okay, fine. Thanks.”

Except-

“You can’t tell Zoey that I told you... I don’t think she particularly wants you to know. Frankly, _I_ don’t want you to know, either, but... guess that’s been thrown out the window now.”

“I am genuinely sorry, Leif... and I know, given our past, why you might not believe that, but... I really am truly sorry. I’ll keep it to myself, and if Zoey tells me, I’ll act surprised.”

“Fine... just... fine. Can I go now?”

“Yeah... you can. Again, I’m really sorry, Leif.”

“Fine,” he said. He wasn’t ready to forgive Joan. Not for breaking his heart, and not for pressuring him into sharing information that one would consider pretty goddamn personal.

He went back to his desk and got back to work, but eventually, he got bored and needed to clear his mind, mostly because he was worrying about Zoey so much, and she’d told him that morning, just as she was getting back in bed to go back to sleep, to not call her, because she could take care of herself, and not to incessantly worry all day.

Easy for her to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment,,,,, it gives me the will to pump out more zoleif content to feed your souls


	9. nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leif reminisces and gets a call from his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaay more leif pov!!! this is also an extra long chapter so y a y leif

Leif took out a piece of paper and a pen, and half looked at the paper, half at his screen, and began to draw. Maybe it’d help get his mind off Zoey.

It didn’t.

As he mindlessly doodled, barely even looking at the page, he had to step back and look in wonderment at the fact that he’d ended up here, anyway. Getting Zoey Clarke pregnant in of itself was something of an achievement... not in a gross way, but in an achievement as in, he never would’ve seen himself doing this a year and a half ago.

A year and a half ago was when he realized that he was _very_ attracted to Zoey, in a _very_ sexual way. She told him much, much later that he hadn’t sung a heart song about loving her for a long, long while, but they’d started giving each other heated stares, and they’d been more snipey at each other, in a very hot way. 

It’d culminated in several rounds of making out on Zoey’s desk (and once on his), and almost fucking in the handicapped stall of the women’s bathroom, and then discovering that she was a _virgin_ (which still stunned him, she listed off at least 15 past partners to him, and he didn’t know how she’d dated _that_ many people and not had sex, but kudos to her, he supposed), and decided that maybe she’d like to loose it in a meaningful way. 

After she chickened out on coming to his apartment to have sex, he confronted her at her own building, where they’d had a heart to heart and then had the best sex of Leif’s life (and the best sex of Zoey’s, by default) in Zoey’s tiny little queen bed.

Having a king to yourself was a little bit lonely, but it was fun.

He had never imagined, a year and a half ago, as he realised he had it _bad_ for Zoey Clarke, that he’d knock her up, and even if nothing had come of it but heartbreak, he had to at least acknowledge that that was something of an achievement.

He’d _hated_ her for a long time. The first time they’d met, Zoey had been a rambling, awkward idiot, who’d been hired with a crop of new kids that were annoying, and most of whom didn’t last (Sam and Zoey were the only ones left now that Max was gone), and Leif had chosen to resent her. When she’d gotten the promotion over him, he’d decided to hate her.

When he thought she’d written that anonymous peer review about him, he decided that she was somewhat dead to her, even if they reconciled later.

And after he’d decided he had a massive crush the size of Montana, he decided to grind her into the ground by taking out his anger on her to avoid his feelings.

Zoey had been hurt by that, he knew, but it had backfired in mostly being incredibly hot, and then they’d ended up fucking and falling for each other even more.

He’d totally thought Zoey would ave a workplace romance with Max or Simon. Never him. And even after Max left, he’d figured there was a pretty good chance that she and Max would date.

Never in a million years did he think he’d be on his knees up against Zoey’s desk, Zoey kneeling at the edge of her desk, on top of it, and her hand against the back of his head, pulling him closer, woven through his hair, as they kissed feverishly. Zoey in his mouth, Zoey pressing up against him, _Zoey_ all over him.

He’d wanted her because she was hot and they were hot together, yeah, but he also really, _really_ loved her. He wanted to see her pregnant, wanted to hold her hand and walk down the street with her pregnant, wanted to hold her hand as she labored, wanted to hold _their_ child in his arms. Hold her in the hospital bed, and hey, as a bonus, maybe score some points with his mom as the son to give her her first grandchild.

But here he was, and here Zoey _wasn’t._

He knew in his heart that he was going to try and convince Zoey to legitimately try for a child. Not just stumble upon it on accident and frantically buy a pregnancy test at Walgreens because Zoey’s boobs hurt and she was throwing up, but make a purposeful effort. He was pretty sure there had been a broken condom or two involved, maybe now they’d go all in and not use one at all.

Leif hadn’t really thought about kids at length before that. He kinda wanted kids, just because, but he’d never been with someone long enough to actually think about getting _that_ serious with them, especially since marriage and a year or two of it usually came in the way of that, and he’d never gotten to that particular base on the field.

And then there was Zoey, who said that they _shouldn’t_ get married, because getting married just because there was now a child involved was stupid, she thought. Leif would tend to agree, but really, once they found out that Zoey was pregnant, he had had his heart set on having a baby.

Zoey defied all the rules.

Zoey was a whole _foot_ shorter than him, she had fiery red hair and a fiery independent spirit to go along with it, she had had sex with him in the girl’s bathroom multiple times after he took her virginity in her bed. 

They had an intense rivalry even while hopelessly in love, and still were fairly competitive, often playing little games to see who would finish first, the looser having to do something for the winner, like get them coffee or steal something from the raw bar down on the sixth floor.

“What’re you drawing, Leafy Top?” Tobin asked, snapping Leif out of his thoughts.

Frankly, Leif hadn’t even known, himself, he’d zoned out completely and thought about Zoey for twenty minutes, and his hand had never stopped moving. This happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Something,” Leif answered, surely an enlightening answer, as he looked at his creation.

There was Zoey’s bust, and there was his bust, and they were both in tears, and in between them was a tiny little dot with a pronounced broken heart. It looked almost like the vent-y drawing Max had seen when he was working on the sixth floor and so was Max, except that they were both crying in the picture, and the little dot of happiness, forsaken, in the middle.

That would’ve become a _baby._

In a coincidental timing marvel, his phone dinged quietly in his pocket, the text tone he had for Zoey.

He pulled it out quickly, because if Zoey was texting him when she’d told him specifically not to call her, something must be up.

**Zoey: I want to get a tattoo. Don’t people get tattoos when something meaningful happens to them, sometimes? I want a tattoo of baby feet, but, like, broken glass. Does that make sense? I dunno, this might just be Zoey’s Slightly High Thoughts Because I Might’ve Broken Into Some CBD Chews I Got At A Birthday Party, Also I’m In Pain. [3:33 PM]**

He snorted. Zoey, even when she was probably miserable, was mildly adorable.

The idea of two baby feet but they were broken glass interested Leif, and so he stuck his vent drawing into a drawer and got out a new sheet of paper and a sharpie. 

He drew it out carefully. Baby feet weren’t particularly hard to draw, and he drew them small, but not too small, just about slightly under the foot size a preemie would have.

And then he added the shattered glass part, careful lines making careful fragments, forming the broken glass element. 

He took a picture and sent it to Zoey. 

**Me: Like this? [1 Attachment] [3:40 PM]**

**Zoey: That actually looks really good... I really like that. Maybe, like, on one of my ribs? Not too major, not too big, just... like that. I dunno, is that like putting a bow on it? I just want to get my mind off of feeling completely devastated, and acknowledge that it happened in a meaningful way. I’m lowkey rambling but I’m too tried to edit this. So. [3:41 PM]**

He loved her. A lot.

Just as he was going to bathroom as he was about to leave, he was cornered by Tobin. Wonderful. He loved Tobin, but he wasn’t too keen on the fact that he knew Tobin would be being nosy.

“Leif, dude, look. I really don’t like it when you’re sad and you won’t tell me why, and I know it’s connected to Zoey not being here. Will you please just tell me?”

“I’ll tell you eventually, Tobin, but... not right now.”

“Okay, so, when? Because right now it seems to me that you’re just kinda sitting in your sadness and brooding, like when you and Joan broke up. Did you and Zoey break up?”

“Actually, no. We most definitely did _not_ break up.”

“That sounded kinda sarcastic. Are you being sarcastic?”

Leif sighed. “No, Tobin, I’m really not. Look, it’s... it’s complicated, what happened, and I’m not sure I’m ready to tell you. I will, eventually, but... don’t take it the wrong way, okay? It’s not you, it’s me. And Zoey. Not that it’s Zoey’s fault or anything.”

“Does it have something to do with what Cheryl told me?”

“Who?”

“You know, Cheryl, the receptionist? Yeah. She saw you carrying a very, very upset Zoey out. We boned on the reception desk the other day, and she told me about it. So I know something’s very, very wrong here if Zoey let you carry her in broad daylight, in public. Or not...?”

“No. Something’s wrong, but I don’t think you can help.”

“Dude... I can very much help. I’m your best friend, I’m here for you, no matter what. You can tell me anything.”

“Can I tell you nothing, but also tell you that it _really_ isn’t you? I just... it’s a lot for me to handle right now.”

“So let me help you, dude. Duh. Then it’s less that you have to handle. My wish is your command.”

Leif wished it was that simple.

“You really can’t help, Tobin... but I wish you could. Look... I really need to pee, and if you continue this conversation at the urinal... it’s not gonna turn out well for you. Okay?”

“Geez, fine.”

“Tobin, it really, really isn’t you. Please understand that.”

“I do... I also understand that you had really fucking better tell me soon.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay, bro... go pee. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Leif went and peed, but he knew, not even deep down, that he had to tell Tobin. And soon. Zoey was helping him, but they couldn’t support each other emotionally and have anything good come of it when they were both upset about the same thing. As it was, they were both messes on a normal day. Zoey was basically a therapist now that she’d been hearing songs for almost two years, but that was because Zoey had the one braincell they had between the two of them most of the time.

He went home to Zoey, having stolen a key from her (he’d told her in the morning while the thermometer was in her mouth that he had, she’d just nodded tiredly.

Leif unlocked the door and let himself in, locking it behind him as he walked through the apartment to figure out where Zoey was.

He found her on the couch, fast asleep on her back, one hand on her stomach, the other hanging off the side of the couch.

The hand on her stomach hurt him. A lot.

But he left her be and went and showered, pretending he was washing away his sins as he stuck his head under the stream of water. He always had to adjust the shower head whenever he showered at Zoey’s, Zoey was so short that she angled it much, much differently. Leif needed it a lot higher, but he could do with it being shorter than him if it was angled like how he thought a normal human being should angle it.

He got out, toweled off, and put on one of his own NASA t-shirts and sweatpants, because it was that kind of day. 

He was about to go sit on the floor next to the couch while Zoey slept and think very sweet thoughts about her when his phone rang.

In an attempt to get rid of the noise before it woke Zoey up, he answered it before he even looked at who it was.

“Hello, Leif.”

 _Fuck._ It was his mother.

“Hii, Mom,” he said, trying to hide how goddamn shaky and nervous his voice was already.

“Did you finally get your girlfriend’s job at that sparky place you work at?” She chirped in her Jersey accent.

“SPRQ Point. With a Q.”

“That’s weird.”

“You know, it is. But at least it’s not... the sparky place.”

“Yeah. Anyway. Your father’s hosting this big banquet next weekend. You’re coming, and bringing that little girlfriend of yours. What was her name? Zendaya?”

“Zendaya is Meechee,” Leif muttered. 

“Huh? Her name is Meechee?”

“No, her name’s Zoey. Do I get a choice in this? I don’t know that I really want to go anywhere next weekend... or can. He racked his mind for some sort of excuse that wasn’t ‘Meechee just had a miscarriage.’

“No excuses, Leif. Your brothers are going to be there, you haven’t seen them in forever. Much less, me. Do you want me to die sad, because my dear little Leif didn’t come and see me before I died?”

Jesus Christ. “Fine... I’ll come. Can’t vouch for Zoey, though.”

“Well, your brothers are bringing girlfriends, it might be nice for Zoey to find out what kind of family she’d be marrying into.”

“We’re not engaged, Mom.”

“No, not yet. But I’m sure that’ll change soon. You’ve been dating, what, a year? Your father and I dated for two weeks before we got engaged.”

“Yeah, but then you didn’t get married for four more years, and you’ve divorced and both remarried other people twice before remarrying, divorcing again, each remarrying again, and then remarrying each other.”

“I think I married two people after the second time I divorced your father, he had three wives between our second wedding, though.”

“Jesus, Mom.” His parent’s martial history was a fucking mess, and yet somehow he and both of his younger brothers were his dad’s kids. His parents had done DNA testing during a fight.

“I sure hope that girlfriend of yours isn’t turning you into a goy, God forbid.”

“No, Mom, don’t worry. I am still very much a Jewish man.”

“Good, good. Bring her along, fly in by Thursday, okay? That’s when your brothers are flying in. Eric’s flying in his brand new private jet.”

“How wonderful of him,” Leif said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“There’s not going to be any brotherly bickering during the weekend, got it? It’s a lovely family get together. Shabbat banquet on Friday night, nice Shabbat on Saturday and then a formal family dinner on Saturday night, and you can all go and leave your old mother on Sunday. The girls from shul are coming, my friends and also the girls who are interested in you. Don’t you like that?”

“I’m dating someone, Mom.”

“Yes, yes, well. I’m sure they’d love to see you again after all these years.”

“I’m sure they would,” Leif grumbled, remembering how many times he’d desecrated the girl’s bathroom at the temple with another girl (five) and that one time with a boy. Ten times, if you counted the times he gave blowies and got nothing in return.

He didn’t.

“Well, make sure Zoey brings a very pretty dress or two, she’s going to need it.”

“Alright, fine. Maybe I can bring one of my friends, too.”

“If you bring that Toby boy again, you’re being written out of my will.”

That tracked. His mother threw these out of the blue Friday banquets and Saturday ‘formal family dinner’ weekends at least twice a year, and two years ago, he’d brought Tobin. Five squirrels and one raccoon rampaging through the house later, Tobin had to go stay at the Motel 6 until Sunday morning.

“No, I’m not bringing Tobin. His name’s Max Richman, he’s Jewish, and he goes to temple like a good Jewish man.”

“Is he Orthodox?”

“Uhh... I don’t think so? I’d have to ask.”

He could see in his mind’s eye, his mother wrinkling up her nose and adjusting the tichel on her head. “Ugh. Well, whatever, a Jew is a Jew. But I expect no wild animals running through my house and defecating on my good China, you hear me?”

“Alright, fine,” Leif said, and he wrapped up the conversation as quickly as he could, and then flopped down onto Zoey’s bed, letting out a huge sigh.

His parents weren’t really very rich, just well off with Eric’s contributions to their bank account from his billion dollar hedge fund. Eric, of course, claimed to have given his parents as much as he could, while probably wasn’t very much in the grand scheme of things. 

But whatever. 

His mother liked to treat the entire congregation of their temple to showy weekends, which was fine, that was what she liked to do. She might’ve been the guilt tripping Jewish mother, but nobody, not even Eric, was a greedy rich Jew. His mother would die and then turn in her grave if someone from their family became that.

But now he’d not only have to bring Zoey along this year, but he’d also have to bring Max, which meant being a little bit more open about his family life to both of them than he was used to, but it also meant that Max might find out about The Incident That Must Not Be Named. And would either of them be ready for that? He was good friends with Max at this point, but he hadn’t even told Tobin, whom he was a better friend with.

So this was going to be just a barrel full of fun.

___________________

Leif sat by the couch waiting for Zoey to wake up for awhile, but finally got tired of sitting there thumbing through Tumblr and got up to make dinner.

He scraped together enough food in Zoey’s sad, sad fridge and pantry to make fried zucchini chips (they were millennials, might as well act like it), and then by the time they were done, Zoey was still asleep.

He wanted her to be well rested and she was kinda adorable when she slept, but damnit, he was starving, and didn’t want to wait on her to eat dinner.

Leif walked back over to the couch, knelt down next to it, by Zoey’s head, and gently nudged her a couple of times. She stirred a little bit, but didn’t wake.

“Hey... Zo,” he said quietly, poking her again. “Time to get up, I made dinner.”

She stirred again, but didn’t wake. Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d woken her up that morning, she was usually a pain to wake up. This morning had been different, this afternoon was not.

“Zo... c’mon, Zo,” Leif said again, gently shaking her shoulder. 

It took a lot more shoulder shakes and some more gentle coaxing before Zoey finally blinked awake and stared at him absently, as she was trying to wake herself up mentally.

“Good morning, Zo.”

She rolled over. “Ugh, is it morning _already?_ she groaned.”

“No, it’s the afternoon. I made some zucchini chips, want some?”

“Mmm,” Zoey said, shifting a little bit.

“Zo... come on,” he coaxed, poking her cheek.

She rolled over onto her side and popped open one eye, the other mashed into the couch cushions.

“Hi there,” he said.

“Hi,” Zoey said tiredly, reaching up to rub her eyes. “What smells so good?”

“Zucchini chips... I have to take your temperature again before you can have any, though.”

Finally, Zoey sat up, stretching herself out like a cat, arms extended out as far back as they went. She relaxed into a slouch, and pushed her hair out of her face.

“I’ll go get the thermometer as long as you don’t go back to sleep.”

“That’s fine,” Zoey said.

Leif got the thermometer and made airplane noises before stuck it into her mouth, eliciting some tired giggles from his girlfriend, and he went and plated up food and brought it back before the thermometer finally beeped.

“100.4,” Zoey read.

“Oh, much better. The medicine must be working.” Leif was hoping for something slightly lower, but it was better than when she was at 103 this time yesterday.

“Yeah, guess so. Thanks for the food,” Zoey said, taking one of the plates from him and digging right in.

He let her take a couple bites before he struck up a conversation, deciding to warm her up before dropping the ‘Weekend in New York with Leif’s parents’ bomb on her.

“So, how was your day?” He asked.

Zoey took another bite and chewed it through before she answered. “Eh. My cramps got a little less horrible and I slept for most of the day.”

“Yeah, no kidding. You were dead to the world when I got home.”

“Figured as much. I think my body’s getting pretty tired of being sick.”

“Sure do hope so.”

“So how was _your_ day?” Zoey asked.

Leif, too, took another bite before answering. “Eh. I worked. Got grilled by Joan. She’s forgiving all of your sick days, by the way.”

“You didn’t tell her, right? Because I don’t know if I’m ever going to tell her, at least not for five years or so.”

“No, I didn’t tell her,” Leif lied. “I did tell her you were running a stupidly high fever. She decided to forgive your sick days and the one vacation day I took.”

“Huh. Good. I think if my fever keeps dropping, I can get back to work on Monday. So... a week off.”

“Yeah... huh. At least it’s the weekend now, and we can be together all day for two days.”

“And then all the days after that, because I’m going back to work on Monday. Even if my fever doesn’t drop. I’ve decided... I just can’t hide from it forever, right? And you guys have started work on the Chirp app, and I need to catch up.”

“Please don’t push yourself though, okay?”

“Yeah, no, I won’t. Maybe we can spend the day tomorrow at my parent’s house, if that’s okay with you.”

“Then we’ll be even,” Leif mumbled, stabbing another piece of zucchini.

“What do you mean, even?”

Well, great, a slip of the tongue, and Zoey wasn’t even thoroughly warmed up before he’d have to break the news to her.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, don’t hate me for this, but my mom’s having her semi annual Friday night Shabbat banquet and the Saturday night formal family dinner, and... she kinda invited us... and I kinda invited Max. Not to Max, of course, because that would only be smart of me.”

“So I’ll get to meet your parents? I’m on board with this! As long as I’m feeling okay, I’d love to!” Zoey said, with a _lot_ more enthusiasm than Leif thought she would.

“Wait, seriously? You’re onboard?”

Zoey made a thumbs up. “You’ve met my parents, now I’ll meet yours. As long as they don’t expect me to be pregnant, or to not have been pregnant ever because we aren’t married, or, y’know, engaged...”

“Nah. I think they want us to be engaged, though. My mom... my mom wants grandchildren.”

“Oh.” Zoey looked down at her plate. “Max is invited too? The only qualm I have with that is... I dunno if I’ll have told him yet, and I dunno how good of a pretender I’ll be, actually.”

“Well... first we have to make sure he’s on board. And after that... I don’t know.”

“We do eventually have to start telling people, I guess.”

Leif thought back to his conversation with Tobin that day. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes for the goyim in the audience:
> 
> \- yes i am jewish. yes i hc leif as jewish. 
> 
> \- a tichel is a head covering worn mostly by married orthodox jewish women, it’s kinda like a hijab but not. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tichel
> 
> \- leif’s mom is susie essman but also she’s the mom in bless this mess, played by susie essman


	10. ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leif takes Zoey to her parent’s house, and the two of them have a lot of thoughts and need to do better with communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song in this chapter:
> 
>  **how can i tell you** by cat stevens 
> 
> everyone say a giant happy birthday to zeph (chilled_gales) in the comments or like... go read their fics. this chapter is their birthday present and i discovered i have another mostly written one that i never finished so maybe i’ll get that to y’all eventually?? anyway. tell zeph that they’re awesome and even tho this is going up an hour b4 their birthday ends s t i l l.

“So, you’re telling me I’m going to your mother’s shabbat dinner?” Max sounded a little bit... weirded out. As he should be.

It had only been a few hours since he’d talked to his mom, and in that time, he’d changed clothes in nervousness, (not even to casual clothes, even) contemplated calling Max, wondered why he was having anxiety over this, listened to Zoey quietly talk about the art gallery Mo had been to that he’d told her about, and finally picked up the phone and called Max around 9:30 at night.

“Yeah, I am. Only if you want to... I don’t see why she doesn’t make her huge scene during a holiday, but I digress,” Leif said, fidgeting slightly with the bottom of his lavender V-Neck sweater as he adjusted the phone on his ear.

“I mean, what do I have to loose? It’s shabbat dinner, and you can’t go wrong with shabbat dinner,” Max said slowly.

“Yeah, but it’s a full weekend, really so that my brothers can talk about how fucking awesome they are.”

“Well, maybe he’ll take me for a spin on his Cessna,” Max joked.

Leif laughed. “A Cessna? That’s funny. He’s too good for a Cessna.”

“Oy vey.”

Leif eventually got off the phone with Max, and turned to Zoey, who was fully onboard with this little jaunt and to meet his family, but looked pretty goddamn dejected and sad, picking at the couch cushions.

“You okay?” Leif asked, softly. He’d thrown himself back into work so fast, he had to remind himself that it had only been a few days since... since...

“I’ll live,” Zoey said, sounding just as dejected as she looked.

He sat down next to her, and drew her in close, and she shuddered and leaned into his touch, resting her head on his chest.

“You’re gonna be okay, Zoey, I swear.”

“Just... let me cry on you, for a sec, okay? Because I feel so _empty_ and wrong, and just...” a sob broke loose, and Leif drew his arms around her, and the shift let her press more of her body into him.

He held her close, resting his chin on her shoulder, as she cried brokenly, seemingly out of nowhere- she’d been fine a few minutes ago. But he hadn’t been the one who’d had to go through the physical toll of a miscarriage- and she was still going through it. She was still a little bit feverish, a little bit bleeding... probably more than she was letting on to him.

“How can I miss a baby I never even got to... oh my god, I never even got to _hold_ it...” Zoey spoke half in words and half in sobs, muffled in Leif’s now soaked sweater. 

“Shh... Zo, I swear, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I didn’t even know I _wanted_ a baby... and I keep saying the same things over and over again...”

“It’s not like everything’s gonna be solved after you say something and cry, Zo... you... this stuff takes time.”

“I don’t want it to take time... I want... god, I don’t even know what I want!”

He squeezed her a little bit, feeling immensely awkward and stupid, because he really didn’t know how to comfort her. Zoey always had all the answers, always knew exactly how to make him feel better- and sure, part of that was if he tried to hide emotions from her, he’d just sing them out in dramatic flash mobs in Zoey’s brain or whatever and then she’d know exactly what was up. 

But still, anyone could use that information and be clunky with it- lord knows he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Zoey was singing him songs- but Zoey had a way with words... she managed to make him feel better even if she had no goddamn clue what was going on. And he... didn’t have that talent. 

So he just held her and did the best he possibly could, because what else could he do? Zoey was... Zoey was _everything_ to him... and he still didn’t know how to make her feel okay. And sure, she’d just had a miscarriage and there wasn’t really anything _anyone_ could do, but...

Zoey bolted up and out of his arms, suddenly, face puffy and red, still crying. “I want to go to my parent’s house.”

“Zo...”

“It’s not your fault, and I know I said I wanted to do it tomorrow... I just wanna... I want to see if my dad will sing something comforting to me.”

“Oh... was I singing?”

She shook her head. “No... and I love you, and you’re helping... but I really want my parents right now.”

She could say that, and Leif knew that she meant it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Maybe because he didn’t really know what it was like to _want_ to see your parents, be comforted by them, even, but... 

He didn’t know what. So he just helped Zoey get her coat and Crocs on (they went over her socks, but she was sad, so he wasn’t going to exactly shame her fashion choices whilst sad), and he held her hand, almost to protect her, as they left her apartment.

It was times like these, he wished he had a car and didn’t completely rely on public transportation. Sure, it was way cheaper to use public transport, but then there were people looking at you weird if you weren’t anything but stone faced and steely, and if you had a medical emergency it was fucking hell. 

That day, when Zoey had miscarried... it’d been the middle of the day and it really wasn’t that crowded, but it still fucking _felt_ crowded. Everyone’s eyes were upon him and the girl he had literally carried in, who was crying hysterically and wasn’t going to stop to put on her steely public transport façade because she was pregnant and she was bleeding. 

He’d felt absolutely helpless, even doing as much as he could, carrying her because she couldn’t walk, stroking her hair and whispering that she was going to be okay, but besides that, all he could do was sit there and let the bus driver drive and hope nothing terrible happened between then and getting to the hospital. He couldn’t exactly floor it in his car, and he couldn’t stop her from bleeding, either, but... a little bit of control in those situations helped when you were having a panic attack on the inside and your girlfriend was on your lap, _sobbing_ while she bled out the baby.

Today, she wasn’t having a medical emergency, but she was still puffy eyed and wearing a coat, pajama pants and a nightgown and socks and crocs, and he was dressed in khakis and a nice V-Neck and holding her hand on the bus, and it was night and all, but goddamnit, human nature is to stare and that is what they all did.

Zoey didn’t seem to care, though- maybe she’d been desensitized to it after she had ridden the bus while having a miscarriage. He wouldn’t know... but he wouldn’t have wanted to be in her position. Hopefully this all wasn’t a TV show and nobody was going to write an Mpreg fic about him. 

The fact that he knew what that was was completely Zoey’s fault, by the way. 

Finally, the bus stopped at the closest station to her parent’s house, and Leif held tight to her hand as he led her off and down the street to the house.

“You... your folks won’t care that it’s late, right?” Leif asked. She probably knew whether or not they would care, and he should probably know too, but a childhood of not being allowed to make noise after 9pm (but having to listen to the noise his parents made), he was a little bit anxious.

“Care? My dad goes to bed at ten and I’m sure Mom wouldn’t care if he’s up later than usual if I’m upset, and she has randomly popped into my apartment at varying hours with a bottle of wine with no notice. Multiple times.” Zoey sounded a little bit less upset than she had been twenty minutes ago, but it could be her deciding to save face now that they were on a dark street in a quiet neighborhood with nobody around.

Zoey Clarke and her quirks would never cease to amaze him.

They were quiet for the rest of the walk, Leif walking decently fast to match Zoey’s pace but still managing to stay a stride or two ahead of her due to his clinically long legs and his undying, eternally burning need to be perfect. 

Finally, they came upon her parent’s house, and Zoey didn’t even bother knocking, letting herself in with a key she fished out of her jacket pocket, and pulling Leif inside with her.

It was when she was standing under the lights in the hallway that he saw how much _more_ red and puffy her eyes were, and the fresh tear tracks down her face... she’d managed to cry quietly during the walk. 

His stomach burned with guilt as Zoey peered into the living room.

Maggie had gotten up from the couch and started to go to investigate the opening of the door, and she started to say Zoey’s name before Zoey wrapped her arms around her mother and pressed her face into her collarbone. 

How the hell two brunette people that were average height could have such a short, ginger daughter, Leif didn’t know. But he sure did feel awkward, standing there as Zoey began to audibly cry.

Maggie’s eyes darted over to Leif as she held her daughter, and Leif didn’t really know what to do. He had met her a million and a half times, and then some, but he didn’t exactly know how to silently communicate to her that Zoey was upset because she’d bled out a baby and she was still presumably feeling like death. 

“Mom... Mom, it fucking hurts,” Zoey said, barely audible, muffled in Maggie’s floral printed shirt. Maggie lifted a hand and gently, lightly stroked Zoey’s hair, and Zoey shuddered and held tighter to her.

Maggie was looking down at her crying adult daughter, and not at Leif anymore, and either way, Leif did not know what the _fuck_ to do.

Maggie eventually led Zoey over to the couch, where she curled up between her mom and dad, leaning on her dad’s shoulder, telling him quietly how she was sorry she lost one of his grandchildren... and if that didn’t break Leif’s fucking heart all over again, he must have been made of fucking steel. 

“I’ll... I think I’ll leave you guys alone for a bit, okay?” Leif finally said, mustering up the courage to finally fucking say something rather than stay standing there, straight and tall and awkward as fuck. 

“You... you can go home for once if you want,” Zoey said quietly, not even looking at him... like she was ashamed.

As if she was the person who had anything to be ashamed of.

Leif opened his mouth to say something, but then Zoey was suddenly staring into space, eyes empty, for a good five seconds before she snapped back.

“Leif... Leif, just... you can stay if you want, or you can go back to my place, or yours... but please don’t... don’t do that.” Zoey’s tone had shifted, and Leif was pretty sure someone had just sung to her.

And the possibility that it was him was nothing if not unsettling. He liked keeping his insecurities and guilt to himself, thank you very much.

“What would you rather I do?” 

Zoey took a breath and picked a few strands of hair that had stuck to her face from crying off her skin. “Please go somewhere where you can have a little bit to yourself that isn’t at work... go to my place or your place or something but please just... yeah.”

He was sure he’d sung something to her about how guilty and or awkward and or generally horrible he felt, or maybe it was one of her parents, but the sudden change in tone had definite meaning. Some sort of avenue had opened up for her, and he _hated_ not knowing. 

And if he didn’t know that he’d just sung to her, he’d think she wanted to be rid of him, because surely the way he was standing there awkwardly wasn’t fun to watch... actually, maybe whatever he’d sung to her had made her want to be rid of him.

But he would do what she wanted, because he loved her very much and her parents still didn’t know about her power, so it wasn’t really like he could press about it while she was with them. And wasn’t he intruding on her space enough.

“Okay... if you need me to come and get you after...”

“I’ll call you if I need you,” Zoey said, softly. Almost guiltily.

Jesus, why couldn’t he just shoulder all the guilt and then not feel guilty because she felt guilty and then she’d feel guilty... it was a roundabout that didn’t accomplish shit.

But he left, because that’s what she wanted, and he hoped that he wasn’t going to have her come home and kick him out because she wanted to break up.

______________________

Leif was the one who’d started singing, after a gentle acoustic intro, while Zoey had been perfectly content to tell Leif to go take a bubble bath and cuddle with her father, because she didn’t _need_ yet _another_ song, another problem to fix... she was trying, okay, universe?

His voice was soft, gentle, like a summer breeze, and Zoey shuddered involuntarily, because goddamnit, she couldn’t deal with the fact that he was so.... in love with her, apparently. 

He’d been willing to have a child with her, so... she did wonder what had triggered this song.

_I long to tell you_

_That I'm always thinking of you_

_I'm always thinking of you_

_But my words just blow away_

_Just blow away_

_It always ends up to one thing, honey_

_And I can't think of right words to say._

Leif had stood there, staring at her and singing softly, and suddenly, she felt her dad move, and she whipped around to see him turn and look her, to see him smile gently and cup her cheek.

_Wherever I am girl_

_I'm always walking with you_

_I'm always walking with you_

_But I look and you're not there,_ he sang, voice quiet and gentle like Leif’s, but it was her _dad_ who was singing, so excuse her for bursting into tears. 

_Whoever I'm with_

_I'm always, always talking to you_

_I'm always talking to you_

_And I'm sad that you can't hear_

_Sad that you can't hear._

He was talking to her and she couldn’t hear... good grief, she just wanted to shake him until he snapped out of it and she could have him _back_ , so he could properly comfort her and tell her how much he loved her... in song form was nice, but it never lasted.

_It always ends up to one thing, honey_

_When I look and you're not there,_ her dad continued, but Leif took the next few lyrics, coming over to kneel before Zoey and take her hand, looking up at her like she was some sort of goddess.

_I need to know you_

_Need to feel my arms around you_

_Feel my arms around you_

_Like a sea around a shore._

_Each night and day I pray_

_In hope that I might find you_

_In hope that I might find you,_ the two singers harmonized, Leif’s voice higher than her dad’s, but both perfect and soft and gentle and _loving_...

 _Because heart's can do no more,_ Zoey’s mother sung, the duet becoming a three as her mom took her other hand, looking at her with eyes full of motherly love, and Zoey couldn’t take it, because now she was sobbing her eyes out in this little plane of existence that only she could experience.

If only it was _real._

 _Can do no more,_ all three sung.

_It always ends up to one thing, honey_

_Still I kneel upon the floor,_ that was Leif, still looking at her like she was a goddess, like she held all the answers. What had she done to get someone to look at her like _that?_

_How can I tell you_

_That I love you_

I love you, all three of them sung. Zoey knew the song was drawing to a close, the way they were all withdrawing into their previous positions, but she didn’t want it to end because it felt so _good_ , it was a kind of affection she was never going to get in the real world.

 _But I can't think of right words to say,_ Zoey’s dad finished, and then he was back to his original position, and it was like nothing had ever happened.

But Leif was still standing there expectantly, and Zoey knew he needed a motherfucking break and a half from all this, so she needed to make him go take one. Immediately. Because the way he was standing there, the way he was looking at her like he was _ashamed_ of something, it needed to end, because she couldn’t handle it.

“Leif... Leif, just... you can stay if you want, or you can go back to my place, or yours... but please don’t... don’t do that,” she said quietly, noticing a slight shift in the way he was standing, a slight shift in his expression. _He noticed._

She was sure he didn’t love not being able to hide feelings from him, and she was sure he thought he’d sung something really really damning to her, but it was hard for her to go from him staring at her like she was God and then to the way he looked so _ashamed_... and yet still like she was a goddess.

“What would you rather I do?” 

Zoey breathed out slightly louder than she needed to... she wasn’t really feeling great enough to articulate sentences that made sense, in English. But she noticed a few hairs that had stuck to her face with her stupid, stupid tears, and she pulled them off as she spoke. “Please go somewhere where you can have a little bit to yourself that isn’t at work... go to my place or your place or something but please just... yeah.”

The way his face looked, like a kicked dog, just... she didn’t want to see him like that. She wanted him to take a nice, relaxing bubble bath and to gain the ability to knock some sense into him, because why the hell was he feeling guilty for _her_ mistakes?

“Okay... if you need me to come and get you after...” He was hesitant, looking like he wanted to fidget with something. It must be pretty awkward to be so tall, because when you stood there awkwardly, it was twice as awkward when you were taller than the Statue of Liberty.

“I’ll call you if I need you,” Zoey said quietly. She just needed to... she didn’t know what.

But it wasn’t this... and she didn’t really actually know what to do. 

Leif left, and Zoey kept talking to her parents quietly, trying to shake the feeling that _this wasn’t helping._

She needed a better coping mechanism, or this was never going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they need therapy holy shit.


	11. eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoey continues to cope unhealthily, and decides to tell a (literally) close friend what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello ive been sitting on this chapter for weeks id like to pretend im sorry but alas i am not ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ here have some zoey sadness

The next morning was a morning spent, for Zoey, anyhow, curled up in a ball under the covers and crying.

Leif had left for work hours ago, and Zoey was alone, didn’t want to go to her parent’s house again after the experience of last night, and certainly didn’t want to be crying, but here she was, liquid coming from her seeing-balls imbedded in her face.

But she was just stricken with a feeling of _loneliness_ and _heartbreak_ , and she couldn’t help herself not to just curl up in a ball at the foot of the bed and sob.

She didn’t want to be here.

Zoey wanted to be at work, doing what she needed to do, because getting back to normal, gaining _some_ form of normalcy would be welcomed with open arms, but why would her body allow that? Her fever had stayed stagnant, and hadn’t gotten any better or worse, but she kinda needed to be at a much, much lower temperature to go back to work.

And it didn’t work that she was still having horrible cramps and she couldn’t even bring herself to get out of bed and take her nice prescription painkillers. Because why would she do anything smart?

Because why should _anything_ go well for Zoey these days?

She broke down and called Simon. Called. Not even a text.

Maybe a dead baby wasn’t a dead father... but she needed someone, not Leif, who understood.

Or, she thought she did, but she ended the call before Simon actually got the chance to pick up, and called Leif. Even though it made the guilt pool in her stomach and it would’ve made her cry harder if she wasn’t trying to keep herself from sobbing her eyeballs out entirely.

“You okay, Zo?” He answered, voice soft. Gentle. Because if it was anything else, she might break.

Right now, anyway, she didn’t know how to talk without sobbing, anyway.

“Can... can I tell someone? Cause I need to talk to Simon, I think... he understands. And you do now, but...no offence, but I want to talk to Simon about this.” Her voice broke multiple times, and at the end, she sucked in a deep breath that was adjacent to a sob.

“Jesus... are you okay?”

“No! No, I’m _not_ okay! I can’t fucking handle this, and neither can you, and I just-“ Zoey’s voice broke, and she dissolved into some hiccupy sobs.

“Hey, hey, relax, you’re okay, Zo. You can talk to Simon... nobody’s stopping you.”

“I just don’t want to tell everyone immediately, and I thought I wasn’t gonna tell anyone so soon... fuck, I didn’t even think I’d tell my mom for awhile. But here I am... I just... I _can’t_.”

A text dinged in as she spoke and wiped her face with the heel of her hand.

**Simon: Why’d you call me and then hang up? Are we channeling the Phantom Phone Caller from the Babysitters Club? Does this have something to do with the huge lack of Zoey in my life lately? Pls call back. [10:22 AM]**

“Zo... nobody’s stopping you from telling whomever you damn please. It’s not going to hurt my feelings..” his voice lowered. “I think I’m gonna tell Tobin, soon. Maybe not today, but relatively soon.”

Zoey just felt... compromised. Like anything she’d worked for, any building of stability and happiness had crumbled. Hit by an earthquake, and the aftershocks had leveled everything. And now here she was, asking Leif for permission to tell one of her best friends that her kid was fucking dead.

What a happy life she now led.

“You can do that... I want you to. We... we can’t support each other forever. We can have pity parties, but... nothing constructive is gonna come of it that helps us move on. No... no offense..” A sniffle.

“Zo... do I need to come home? Are you going to be okay?” Leif was soft. Sincere. And if she wasn’t already broken... she would be now.

Even after she’d lost his _child_ , Leif still wanted to know if she was okay. Supported her. Was willing to drop everything and come comfort her.

Zoey didn’t know if she was okay.

“I’m gonna be fine... I’m telling Simon... and I think this is one of his days off. I hate to ruin his day off, but... I _can’t_ , Leif. It’s not you... it’s...”

“We can’t be the ones who pull each other out of this... we aren’t capable,” Leif finished.

Zoey nodded, and then remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

“Go tell Simon, okay? And if you need me, believe me, I will come home immediately.”

“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

“When will you learn that I love you, and I want to _be_ with you, no matter what?”

Zoey hiccuped. “You’re not saying this in the bullpen, right?”

“No, I’m in the hall near the bathrooms.” Leif chuckled, a little sadly. “Seriously... relax. Go talk to Simon, okay?”

She took a deep breath.

She needed this.

“ _Okay,_ ” She breathed.

“I’m gonna let you go now, okay?”

“Okay... I’m sorry, Leif.”

He paused. “For what?”

_For loosing the baby_ , she wanted to say. But she knew that that would make her collapse into an uncontrollable puddle of tears.

“Calling,” she whispered, still feeling very very much like she wanted to sob her eyeballs out.

“Hey... it’s okay. Whenever you need me... I love you.”

“Love you too,” Zoey breathed.

A small part of her _hoped_ that Leif was lying.

Because he deserved better than her.

“I’m gonna let you go now, okay?” Leif repeated.

“Love you,” Zoey said.

“Love you too,” and then he hung up.

Zoey face planted into the mattress and let her shoulders heave as she let out a bottled up sob.

She tried to pull herself together enough to call Simon and actually have him understand what she was saying, or whatever she texted him, but she couldn’t.

Zoey needed someone right this very instant, who was very good at understanding garbled speech.

Hair a matted, tangled mess, still in her pajamas, barefoot, Zoey threw her phone onto the pillows at the head of the bed, threw the covers back, and walked right to Mo’s apartment, rapping on the door loudly, quickly. Urgently.

Mo answered the door in a baby blue tea gown, T-strap shoes with little white socks, and a large emerald green bow perched on his head, a bright pink wig on today. He’d taught her what a tea gown was, at least, never mind the fact that he’d suggested that if she ever got married, that was the kind of dress she needed. 

When he answered the door, he looked curious at first, quickly morphing into alarm, and concern. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his apartment, shutting the door behind them.

“I’m assuming that this is _not_ a happy day visit?” Mo asked sarcastically, guiding Zoey to the couch. Zoey laid face down on it, legs hanging off one of the arms of it.

“Nope,” Zoey groaned, muffled from the couch cushions.

“Feel free to tell me... I’m not doing anything particularly interesting.”

“I had a motherfucking miscarriage, Mo... Leif’s kid, and my fuckup. Intrigued?”

“Extremely... but holy fuck. Are you... actually. No, you’re not okay. Wanna day drink?”

“Can I have wine with a straw? And then vent to you?”

“Sounds good. Red or white?”

“Is that even a question?” Zoey asked, picking her head up from the couch cushion briefly.

“Red it is,” Mo said, walking away. Zoey face planted back into the couch.

Mo came back promptly with a glass of red wine and a bendy straw for Zoey, and some fruity alcoholic beverage in a can for Mo. He poked her until she sat up, and took the glass from him silently.

She took a long sip of wine, until her brain began to hurt more than it already was. It’d eventually numb up from the alcohol, which would be a more than welcome relief.

“Okay, so, sarcasm aside... you doing okay? As well as can be expected, anyway?”

“I’ve had a fever for too many days, I don’t even know how long it’s been, my cramps have been horrible and they haven’t stopped and at this point I’m just used to them, and I feel like a failure.”

“Jesus fuck, Zoey. And you came to me with this?”

“Didn’t feel like waiting for Simon if I called him and finally told him, or going to my parent’s house, or making Leif come home. Basically... I want human interaction besides my own brain.”

“Understood,” Mo said, popping open his drink with a fizzle. “That’s all the people you’ve told?”

“Haven’t told Simon, but yeah. My mom, I’m sure she’s passed it along to my dad, and Leif, because he took me to the hospital.” Zoey took another long sip of wine.

“I have never experienced anything close to what you’re going through, but for what it’s worth... I’m sorry,” Mo said, sincere and kind and sympathetic.

“Thanks, Mo.” More wine went down. She just wanted to get drunk so she could stop _feeling._

“Anytime. Unless I am having sex. Or at an important business event. Am I being too Mo to be comforting?” 

Mo would never stop being Mo, and Zoey was okay with that. In fact, she’d rather have Mo being Mo than have someone actually trying to fix her right now. Mo talking to her was comfort enough.

“No, you’re good. Please keep being real.”

“Okay... well. Like I said, never experienced anything close to what you’re going through... no deaths in the family. However... had a brief stint where I wanted to be a psychologist. Didn’t work out for obvious reasons, but I still carry with me stuff my psychology professor in college told me.”

“You went to college?”

“You think I didn’t? Full scholarship. Briefly did a psychology major, and then I switched to a musical theatre degree with a minor in fashion design. Everyone thought I was batshit. Guess what, bitches? Always was.” Mo took a long slip of his fruity little drink.

“Same here... I guess,” Zoey said slowly.

“The majors, or being batshit?”

“Being batshit- I did a computer science bachelor’s and then immediately went back and did a master’s, and I have stupid amounts of student loans.”

“Lucky you.”

“No, not really- I mean, it’s manageable student debt, I know people who have it way worse, but... like, all in all? I was totally ready to bring an unexpected baby, I’m in a decently good financial place, I was more than ready to move in with Leif, and then after a little bit of coaxing I was mentally all in. I had actually warmed up to it, I was a hundred percent ready for a kid, at least mentally.”

“Life sucks sometimes. You don’t know what it’s gonna throw at you, you kinda just have to roll with the punches,” Mo said wisely.

Zoey waited until she had sucked up all of the wine into her brain to respond. “Not bad advice, Mo, watch out, or you might actually be helpful!”

“Oh, so we’re a sarcastic day drunk,” Mo commented dryly, plucking the empty glass out of Zoey’s hands. “Do you want mo-“

“Is that even a question?” Zoey asked, cutting him off.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mo got up and took the glass to the kitchen, and Zoey mashed her face into the couch cushions while she waited for him to get back.

A tap on the back of her head made her sit up, and she took the refilled glass from Mo. “Thanks,” Zoey said.

“I’ll cut you off eventually, but I think if anyone deserves to day drink... it’s you. Just this once.”

“If I keep feeling this shitty I might keep coming to you until I become an alcoholic.”

Mo rolled his eyes and sat back down. “I’ll get you evicted before that happens.”

They drifted into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Zoey taking the occasional slow sip of wine through the straw, and Mo, a swig of the fruity shit from the can.

“Having you here is really comforting, even if the conversation sucks at the moment,” Zoey said quietly.

“You’re a little bit drunk, huh?”

Zoey nodded. “Seriously, though... thank you for not leaving me alone in my misery and for not having something you needed to do rather than this.”

“I will say, it’s definitely not what I thought I was going to do this morning, but I’m okay with it. But even if I did have something to do... I’m not so horrible of a person that I’d knowingly leave you at the wheel of your own Suffer Bus. And if I’d known sooner, I would’ve been making sure the Suffer Bus at least stayed on the road and didn’t go flying off the mountain.”

“Yeah, well... I thought I did a pretty good job steering this metaphorical bus.”

“You can’t steer your own Suffer Bus in any good way. It’s your own Suffer Bus.”

“That... makes sense, in some weird way that doesn’t make sense,” Zoey said slowly. Maybe it was the alcohol that was dulling her brain, or just Mo being Mo.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want, I have a bedazzled sleeping bag I used when I went glamping... or, y’know, the couch, if you need to stay the night.”

“I dunno, keep feeding me wine and I’ll just pass out here before two in the afternoon.”

“Wouldn’t recommend that, but I won’t stop you, I guess, unless you start breaking shit, throwing up, or babbling incoherently.”

Zoey took a long, long sip of her wine, staring Mo right in the eye as she finished the glass.

“More?” Mo raised an eyebrow.

“More, please.”

Mo simply handed her the bottle, but then thought better of it and snatched it back and poured her a small glass. “That’s your last one.”

“That’s fucking rude, you know that?”

“I’d rather you _not_ become an alcoholic to cope with crippling loss, personally, but that’s just my opinion. If you ever need to go to an AA meeting or be snuck to rehab, my church hosts the AA meetings every Thursday, and, well, I’m sure I can get you to rehab.”

“God, if I ever get to that point, just shoot me,” Zoey groaned.

“Good grief... I do like you better when you’re cheerful, personally, but I get why you aren’t. Just... damn.”

Zoey talked to Mo for hours and hours, or at least she thought so, but eventually, she woke up on Mo’s couch, hearing distant chatter in the background hurting her head as much as the entirely too bright overhead lights.

She groaned, shifting under a throw blanket she guessed Mo had put over her,, pulling it over her face to get the lights out of her face.

“Oh, Zoeyyy...” Mo said in a singsongy voice, and Zoey peeked around the blanket a tiny bit to see Mo floating over to the couch with a slight smile.

“You’re gonna have great fun with this, aren’t you? You’re right, drinking sucks, but...” Zoey spoke softly, because anything above an almost whisper was hurting her head.

“Okay, I’m not going to torture you as much as I normally would, considering the circumstances, but...” Mo gently peeled the blanket off of her face. “It’s seven. At night. Your boy toy is here.”

“Leif?” Zoey sat up suddenly, and regretted it instantly, with all the blood rushing in all different directions and her head suddenly pounding like she’d been hit by a semi.

Leif stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Mo and I are making dinner... hi.” He looked like he was in a pretty decent mood, actually, and maybe that was just because he wasn’t going to cry in front of Mo, or maybe he was in shock because she’d drunk herself to sleep at an ungodly hour even for day drinking...

“Leif...” 

“Save the guilt for never, Zoey! You got drunk, you had a good nap,” Mo said cheerfully, crossing over to the record player in the bookshelf on the other side of the room. “There’s no way that was all alcohol, there was an element of exhaustion to that.”

“Sorry you’re making dinner again...” Zoey still apologized.

“Didn’t I just say?” Mo reminded her, browsing through a crate full of records. “How do you two feel about a listen through Rubber Soul? It’s the best Beatles album, and I don’t take constructive criticism.”

“You’re wrong, but okay,” Leif responded, ducking back into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry... I’m pretty sure it’s a rule of my existence that I’m never wrong about anything, least of all music,” Mo said, taking out the record and gently placing it on the player. 

“The White Album is the best Beatles album,” Leif called.

Zoey was _very_ happy that Leif seemed to be feeling a little bit more upbeat, or was at least trying to be. She wasn’t really in the mood to discuss Beatles albums (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was her favorite, personally, but mostly because she’d never actually listened to any of the others in full), but at least Leif was cheerful.

The crackle of the record filled the room, and then the first song, and Zoey stretched her achy limbs a bit and pulled Mo’s blanket over her head like a hood.

Mo gave her head a sarcastic pat and went back to the kitchen, and a good, satisfying sizzle drifted over, followed by a supremely good smell.

“What’re you making, anyway?” Zoey called into the kitchen, unwilling to stand up and investigate if she didn’t have to.

“Mo’s Magnificent Mosh Pit,” Mo called back to her.

What was placed in front of her was a pink Fiestaware platter with a pile of an indiscernible food dumped in the middle, with a slice of lime on top... for garnish, she guessed.

“What exactly is this, anyway?”

“Whatever was left over in the fridge, duh. Mo’s Mosh Pit is the best way to clean out the not quite dead stuff in a delicious way,” Mo said, sitting down on the adjacent couch with a plate of his own. Leif sat down next to Zoey.

Mo kept the conversation (read: argument) going on with Leif over the ranking of Beatles albums, with quiet, half hearted contributions from Zoey. Because damnit, nobody was going to make her feel cheerful, not on her watch. Not today, Satan. 

She felt disconnected, like she was dreaming, or watching from afar. Leif and Mo talked in the distance, and she was just... there. Forcing down whatever the fuck was on her plate as to not be rude (even if she knew Mo wouldn’t care either way), just trying to get through... she didn’t know what.

When Leif and Zoey ended up back in Zoey’s apartment later, (at this point, it felt more like _their_ apartment, a distinction that terrified Zoey to no end), Zoey breathed out an “I’m sorry,” and raced to the bathroom to throw up.

Something in that Mosh Pit had not sat well with her.

Leif followed her in and held her hair back as she emptied what little was in her stomach, rubbing her back and whispering soothing things that she didn’t listen to, feeling her stomach and throat and her heart burn.

Finally, she rocked back and sat down on the cold black and white tiled floor, and absentmindedly traced a bit of the grout filled in between of the squares, and Leif wrapped his arms around her silently.

“I can’t... I’m sorry, Leif.”

“What for?”

“Why can’t I get _better!?_ ” Zoey was suddenly stuck by a want (or an obligation, take your pick) to go back to work, to catch up on what she had missed so that she kept the position she’d worked her ass off for, even though Leif was her boyfriend now and wasn’t going to steal it, so that at least she could see something different but familiar, to face the scene of the crime head on.

But not if she was doing _this._ The feeling of overwhelming _confusion_ and _fear_ , and, more pronounced than anything else, _grief_ was too fucking much to handle. Disconnected at Mo’s, _too_ connected in her bathroom.

What in the _fuck_ was she going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr @team-zoey-has-two-hands p l e a s e and comments give me the will to continue


End file.
